If you are reading this, I am dead. I will have made the ultimate sacrifice. If you read this, you will tell others in the future that what I did was noble. You will say I did it to save the wizarding world from its own personal hell, because that’s the kind of person you are. But you must know, I did it all for you.
I’m not a good person, Lils, but you are. I did this so your future could be bright, so you could be safe. I know you’re angry with me, I know you probably will not even read this, but I want you to marry James Potter. If my brother Sirius loves someone, that means they are pure at heart. I have never seen Sirius love someone as much as he loves James. He will be good for you; he will protect you. Not that you need it, because you can protect yourself. But it still brings me comfort to know that you could have good people by your side. I know you love James anyway.
You taught me that I can fix my mistakes. You taught me that there is true love. You showed me that I don’t have to be who they expect me to be.
I hope the Dark Lord finds my message. I hope he suffers for what he put you through, and for what he put me through over the years. I hope he never gets his hands on you. I hope I prevented that from happening. During my final breath, I thought only of you.
How your eyes crinkle when you smile, how you always hiccup when you laugh, how you are always picking at your electric blue nail varnish, how you are always seeing the best in people, and how you always have hope.
I’m sorry I had to leave you the way I did. I’m sorry I made you hate me in our final moments, but just know, I could never hate you.
I’m in love with you, I always have been. I loved you during my final breath, and I will love you now on the other side.
I will wait for you, I always will.
Change the world, Lily. That’s why you were born. To shed some light onto the darkness people seem to seek.
Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr
Prompt: june - day thirteen (magician)
Word Count: 2476
Cross-posted on: ao3
‘Did I not just hear about five minutes ago,’ Lily Evans asked, scowling and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, ‘That you think all of this is completely pointless, Black?’
It was a Tuesday, late in the year’s spring. The air was heavy with heat and it beat all the more powerfully in such a hazy classroom. Most people were spending the day outside and she wished that she were there with her friends right now, robes rolled up and sockless, dipping her feet into the cool waters of the Black Lake.
Instead, she had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and being punished for it. Her detention might have been boring, but tolerable, if she hadn’t had the double misfortune of having to share it with Regulus Black.
He shrugged and went back to fiddling with his wand.
‘You’re not deaf and I don’t like lying,’ he told her, quite plainly and quite pompously, ‘But the Magician is still my card. Besides, it comes up for me every time.’
The cloths they were supposed to be polishing Professor Profeta’s crystal balls with lay idle upon the table between them. Lily’s was crumpled and somewhat used; Black’s remained completely untouched.
She folded her arms across her chest.
‘Does it come up so much because it represents a conceited toerag?’ she half-snarled, half-smirked.
The next words out of Black’s mouth made her scowl.
‘You won’t even try to understand, will you?’ he wearily accused. It wasn’t a huge stretch of the imagination to hear him spit out words she had overheard other Slytherins using when she walked past. Even if he wasn’t so keen on blatantly dropping a slur, there was always the implication…
She noticed that his brows looked knitted together, and he was passing his wand between his fingers with a slower motion now.
‘Why should I?’ she asked, turning away from him with a vicious flick of her hair. ‘It’s not like anyone would be intrigued by the complains of a disinterested and self-appointed teacher who thinks what he’s talking about is – to remind you of your own words again, Black – a complete and utter waste of time!’
She didn’t hear him move, but he still sounded nearer the next time he spoke.
‘It means…’ he told her, his voice low, ‘…Magic. Manifestation from mental prowess alone; the strength of one’s will. If you can’t understand that…’
Lily felt an odd, prickling sensation run down her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to be standing up. He must be watching me, she thought. Even though she hated to admit defeat, she threw her head over her shoulder.
Regulus Black was still seated at the table. He had stashed away his wand and had started to rub one of the crystal balls with a cloths. The movements of his hand as he worked seemed rather delicate… delicate and practised. It wasn’t how she had expected a Slytherin boy – and a Slytherin boy of his reputation – to go about the task; she had expected him to break it.
There was silence between them and the room was still except for the mouse-like squeak of Black’s cloth upon the crystal ball. Slowly, she stalked over. At about the same time as she reached the table again, he put the ball down she could see an odd, distorted reflection of her own face, but a reflection nevertheless.
At least he was good at this.
‘It means,’ he said to her, softly and with his eyebrows raised, ‘That anything I wish to happen will come to pass.’
Lily scoffed.
‘Just like I said,’ she remarked. ‘Conceited. You – are – conceited – Black. There’s no getting around it.’ She folded her arms and tilted her head, wearing a face which she felt conveyed that she knew this was going to happen, that the boy in front of her was arrogant and pretentious all along.
His lips, which were normally quite full and dusky, were pulled close together.
‘I do not have anything to prove to you,’ he said, ‘Miss Evans, but I would be open to demonstrating exactly how I am favoured…’
He made a waving gesture and picked up another crystal ball. This time, he looked over the device and into her eyes as he polished.
‘Three things,’ he breathed, and she could see how the ball before him clouded. ‘Tell me three things that you view as impossible for me to accomplish, and I’ll change your mind. I’ll show you how much my will is worth.’
She parted her lips, fully intending to say something, but something about Black’s proposition made her ponder instead. While she couldn’t say that it wasn’t an unusual or even uncommon occurrence for an arrogant boy to offer her the chance to see him make an embarrassing fool of himself on a silver platter, it was rare that that boy was a Slytherin, and someone of dubious political and moral allegiance – at least, if the rumours were true – to boot…
Very, very rare, indeed.
She thought to herself – What kind of girl would she be to pass up such an opportunity? To not experience the pleasant feeling of satisfaction curl up and purr within her belly when he magnanimously failed each and every one of her labours? – and something like a fire was lit within her mind.
Opportunity had reared its head, and the wild excitement inside of her very much wanted to pounce.
‘Three things,’ she echoed at last.
‘Yes,’ he said, quite serious.
‘And if you can only accomplish diddly squat?’ she asked, feeling her lips curve into a smirk.
Black looked from her eyes to her mouth and then back again.
‘That won’t happen.’
Again, Lily’s face dropped and she rolled her eyes. There was something so obtuse and impenetrable about the boy before her.
‘Which isn’t what I’m asking, toerag!’ she snapped, exasperated. ‘If you pretty much end up being a failure with absolutely zero consequences – which will happen, by the way – then this isn’t much of an interesting wager for anyone, then, is it? I think,’ she announced, drawing herself up as tall and as straight as she could, and quite glad that Black, who’s height overpassed hers by what looked to be several inches, remained seated, ‘I think that for every one of these little tasks that you don’t successfully complete by the end of the school year, you should have to spend a month doing whatever I want you to at the beginning of next year.’
‘That isn’t fair,’ he remarked, his lips frowning and his brow furrowed. With a quiet, dull sound, he placed the crystal ball back upon the table.
‘There are many, many things that aren’t fair, Black,’ she shot back, making a frustrated gesture with her hands. ‘If you don’t get used to that—!’
‘Okay,’ he said, interrupting her and with his voice unusually dulled, ‘I can be game for this. I’ll agree to your terms, Miss Evans, but only if you extend the amount of time I have to complete these tasks until the end of this year, and the amount of time I might possibly spend as your servant to one week instead of one month.’
Lily narrowed her eyes, but otherwise she felt quite a bit less irritated.
‘Two weeks,’ she argued, and Black didn’t interrupt again, ‘But until the end of this year is quite too long, I think. You’ll have pretty much three-quarters of a year…’
‘We won’t see each other over the summer,’ he stated, and she paused. He wasn’t wrong.
‘Okay, then,’ she said, ‘I’ll concede to you having the rest of the year. But any progress you make over the summer holidays doesn’t actually count, alright? Did you get that, Black?’
He nodded solemnly and she found that his face didn’t look any less arrogant even when he was agreeing with her.
‘Perfectly,’ he said.
She unfolded her arms and instead joined her hands in a loose steeple before her stomach. Now to enunciate what her mind had been buzzing with…
‘The first thing,’ she began, ‘That I don’t believe you will ever be able to do, Black, is to be invited to the Slug Club – one of Professor Slughorn’s little social gatherings, for the uninitiated such as yourself.’
His eye twitched, and yet he still seemed confident.
‘I’ll see you there,’ he told her.
Lily gave him a look.
‘And by “be invited,” I mean be invited,’ she hissed. ‘You can’t just sneak into a gathering on the arm of a girl whom Slughorn actually wants there, pretending that he actually asked you to be there personally. And don’t try conniving your way in through forgery either. Professor Slughorn likes me; I’ll ask him if he invited you and he won’t hesitate to give me a truthful answer.’
Black looked up at her, his lips twisted into a grimace that told her he was more than a little offended at her suggestion that he would stoop so low as to forge his way into a social gathering he believed himself perfectly capable, no doubt, of entering legitimately. At the very least, he seemed to value honesty.
‘I’ll see you there,’ he repeated, ‘And with my invitation genuine and signed by our esteemed Professor himself.’
She began pacing.
‘The second thing,’ she said, shooting him a sly look, ‘That you won’t ever be able to accomplish… if for Slytherin to win this year’s Quidditch Cup.’
Now it was his turn to cross his arms. Black leaned back in his chair and his face looked somewhat sulky.
‘That’s unreasonable of you, Miss Evans,’ he accused, practically pouting. His lips were quite pinkish and full. ‘The Quidditch season ends in only a few weeks…’
She shrugged.
‘Then you’d best hope that your – how did you phrase it? Manifestation from mental prowess alone? – well, whatever you supposedly have in spades, you best put it to work.’
The lines of Black’s brow became deeper and he seemed to curl up upon himself. Lily found that her gaze was being drawn to him.
‘That’s not fair,’ he breathed, barely louder than a whisper.
She stopped still, and crossed her arms again. The pace of her heart seemed to beat faster and faster beneath her flesh; foolishly, it felt as if she were trying to get away with something almost as horrible as murder.
‘Because you know you won’t be able to do it?’ she found herself saying, and her voice, too, was low and quiet. ‘Your last match is up against us, isn’t it? Gryffindor. You think you can’t beat us, Black?’
‘I think that you’re going back on your own conditions in order to make me out to be a fool,’ he stated, and then he hissed, ‘Like a cheat!’
He looked up at her, and the look in his eyes was defiant. Lily didn’t realise that she was blinking until her vision, for a moment, went black. When she looked away and her gaze dropped down to his neck, her face felt warm.
‘So maybe I am,’ she grumbled, and the hands which clutched at her forearms felt like talons. ‘Fine, then. You don’t have to win the Quidditch Cup, Black. I suppose you just have to catch the Snitch for all of your games. And Slytherin has to win them all as well. And,’ she added, feeling somewhat out of breath, ‘And you can’t get out of this one by not playing or not signing back up next year. You have to play, Black.’
He didn’t respond, or even make a noise, for several seconds. Somehow, she could tell that he was studying her.
‘I didn’t know that you supported your House’s rivals so much…’ he said. His voice sounded heavy with wound and insult. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his head move and guessed that he had looked away. ‘I would never abandon my post on the Quidditch team,’ he stated, and it sounded like a vow.
Lily coughed in a way which sounded like a scoff. Why on earth did he treat being on a Quidditch team with the same solemnity and severity as – she didn’t quite know – as having some sort of military station?
She looked Regulus Black over and his face didn’t change. He was a weird boy, and she pushed down the thought that she had technically known weirder; it wasn’t hard to see why he didn’t seem to have any friends.
‘And,’ she began, ‘The very last, last thing that you’ll never be able to do… is make me like you.’
His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised, but he didn’t say anything right away.
She looked at him, expression very much expectant for his answer, and he replied at last.
‘You… want to like me?’ he asked, his voice heavy with confusion.
Lily rolled her eyes.
‘No, Black,’ she said, her tone accusing him of stupidity if not her words. ‘No. I don’t. That’s why it’s on a list of things I never expect you to be able to do.’
Regulus Black tilted his head, staring at her with an unreadable expression, and then he stood up. The noise his chair made upon the floor as he scooted it back was abrasive.
‘And yet, the whole aim of this little competition, this little game,’ he said, ‘Is that I have to try and overcome your lack of expectation in my abilities. In my magic. In me.’ He approached her slowly, like one of her roommates’ cats stalking sparks or a stray feather, and, in a voice that was low and didn’t sound like an accusation, told her: ‘You want me to court you.’
‘Rubbish!’ she declared.
Her hand darted down to her pocket and her fingers itched to grasp around the handle of her wand. If he thought—!
Unperturbed, and looking for all the world to see as if it was his own decision and his alone, Black stopped several paces away from her.
The two of them remained very, very still. For the first time, Lily noticed that a bird, likely a pigeon and likely somewhere in the rafters above them, was cooing. Her eyes flickered to where it sounded like it might be, but she saw nothing. When she looked back down, she saw that Black had made an effort to follow her gaze.
‘By Christmas…’ he ventured, and the bird cooed again, ‘I’ll make sure you don’t have any more doubt in me. Out of what you’ve tasked me… by Christmas, I’ll have completed all three.’
And it might have been a trick of the light, or a hoax of the strangeness of the moment, but Lily thought that upon his lips, Regulus Black wore a small smile.
Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr
Prompt: june - day five (divide)
Word Count: 1494
Cross-posted on: ao3
‘There is one last reason,’ Regulus Black told her, his hands still folded upon the table in front of him, ‘Why I believe matrimony between you and I would be beneficial.’
The two of them were sitting in a Diagon Alley eatery that Lily had never been in before. Their seats had been reserved and positioned far from the windows in a small, secluded corner that the silvery, early-morning sun had yet to illuminate. In fact, the day was so late in rising that Black’s fingers and face were still softly lit by the flickering light of a candle which sat between them. Their food hadn’t yet arrived.
She took another sip of her butterbeer.
She didn’t quite know what to make of his proposition. Her, married again, after her first marriage had ended in such a spectacularly deprived fashion, and to a man like Regulus Black? All that he had told her and all that had transpired in the last twenty minutes had swelled the tide of questions and confusion in her mind – more than enough to make it drown in its own contemplation.
‘Is it that you’re attracted to me?’ she asked, falling back on her old, schoolgirl charm, tempered and turned ironic by the wound of her more recent past, ‘That you’ve always wanted to be with a woman of my standing? Or that you’ve secretly been in love with me since we were both at Hogwarts, and this is the first time you’ve plucked up the courage to admit it?’
Black cracked something like a smile.
‘Maybe there are several reasons,’ he added, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to make a joke or not. She couldn’t quite tell which one of her teasing suggestions had actually resonated with him, but the thought that he might have watched her when they were both young, watched her and found himself drawn to her and maybe even loved her, made her feel quite odd and embarrassed. She had barely even realised that he existed.
He continued, raising a finger in a small, muted gesture:
‘But the one I want to present to you last is this: even though a Muggle-born woman you may be, you still have the potential to negotiate the divide which has arisen within my family. This, I believe.’
Lily brushed back a strand of hair which hadn’t fallen out of place. She didn’t consider herself too old to be surprised any more – she was, after all, only twenty-four years of age – but she did view herself as more mature, more accustomed, and more practised with learning something unexpected about a man she thought she knew. The big difference, she supposed, was that she didn’t actually know Black very well.
That, and he wasn’t filling her with disappointment yet.
‘That’s quite the compliment, Mr. Black,’ she told him, her hands still idle, and fixed him with a polite and genuinely curious smile, ‘Especially considering your family’s reputation when it comes to those of my genealogy. With that in mind, may I ask why you believe this?’
There was an emergent light in his eyes, one which seemed to shine brighter than their flickering candle flame and the morning’s lazy sun both, which told her that he had very much been hoping that she would ask this question.
‘The reasons are multitude,’ he breathed, voice heavy with restrained excitement, ‘There is the very primary and basic fact that you are a very charming women – or so your reputation, and Professor Horace Slughorn’s praises, claims – and that if any soul of Muggle blood can endear herself to my mother, that it will be one possessing virtue not dissimilar to your own.’
‘You spoke earlier,’ Lily added, carefully easing her interruption in-between his words, ‘That, if I accepted your proposal, our marriage would need to produce children. Your mother, would she be happy about having a grandchild of hers be Half-blood?’
Black looked far from as perturbed as she felt.
‘My mother would rather I produce offspring than not,’ he explained, ‘And the family is in a rather interesting position right now that the both of us would do well to take advantage of, assuming you agree to our union.’
Slowly, she nodded, and said nothing.
‘Here is the situation: my mother and my uncle, now her only remaining brother, have had quite the rivalry since they were children.’ – At this, Lily found her nod become more understanding – ‘For many years now, this divide has manifested in the matter of inheritance. You see, as my grandfather’s first-born, mother believed she was always destined to receive the greater portion of her father’s legacy upon his death, and yet, as a woman, the decree of own traditions makes that impossible; it is the eldest son who always inherits. This is why mother chose to marry her own cousin: as a man, he was first in the line of succession, and, as a direct descendant, the reward that would be passed down through him would be far more value than whatever her own parents could offer her.’
He paused to take a sip of his own drink.
‘Because of this, how she now rules as master of our ancestral home despite her womanhood, neither of my uncle were particularly pleased with her. To add insult to injury, when Uncle Alphard passed, Uncle Cygnus did not receive the full inheritance he had expected to, as – and you may have heard this part from your former husband’s old friend – he donated a not insignificant part of his wealth to my brother. And so, mother’s lineage acquired more money. The animosity between them has not healed and I can assure you that it is mutual, and yet…’
Black’s voice trailed off. Something seemed to have slipped into his mind.
‘And yet,’ he cautiously phrased, ‘Uncle Cygnus still remains third in line to our home. You might say that he is my heir in the same way that… well, that I am my brother’s heir. Only the birth of a child, be they boy or girl – although, knowing how the inheritance of our family functions, you will not be surprised to hear that mother would prefer that, if our children be Half-bloods, that they be daughters as well – would be able to supersede Uncle Cygnus’ claim and secure the future of my mother’s bloodline, independent of her brothers. Does this make sense to you, Miss Evans? That my mother is in dire need of grandchildren, and that she will be willing to overlook a Muggle-born progenitor if it suits her purposes?’
Lily reached out to cup her glass, but didn’t raise it to her lips. She hadn’t missed his implications of the kind of snake den she would be wandering into if she told him “Yes.”
And yet…
He believed in her, didn’t he? Black had all but told her directly that this was the kind of trial he saw her easily overcoming. It felt good to have so much faith put in her, after she had lost so much, and by a man no less.
It felt good, too, to be desired.
She didn’t want him, not really, not yet. But, something deep within her tingled at the knowledge that a man would be so interested in her still. She wanted him to want her. Him wanting her was tantalising, was delicious. She could at least play the part of wanting him if he wanted her. And then, who could guess? He was quite the handsome gentleman, too…
‘I understand,’ she told him, and her voice carried the tiniest hint of a purr, ‘It can be so difficult when people in the same family don’t really get along anymore. But…’ She paused, and she could tell that Black was watching her face very intently. ‘But, what about Harry? What about my son?’
‘He would be as welcome as you are,’ he nonchalantly informed her, ‘As long as you were by my side. He could live with you or visit us as much as you and he want, assuming that your former husband was amicable. There shouldn’t be much animosity between him and a potential son of ours either, since both would be set to inherit different legacies from different fathers – it would not be the same arena for competition as it was for mother and her brothers.’
He stopped and his touched a chain around his neck, one which disappeared beneath his robes and left her unable to see what adorned the end.
‘Will you think about what I’ve said?’ he asked. Lily’s eyes were drawn from his hands to his face. Black’s eyes seemed to at once be keen and clouded. Beyond that, she could not even guess at what he was thinking…
Their food still hadn’t arrived, but the hunger within her belly wasn’t particularly gnawing and she fond that she didn’t mind as much anymore.
Lily and regulus bonding over being the younger sibling. Where they both think their older siblings hate them
urghhhh heart wrenching. l fully agree
imagine regulus feeling betrayed when lily grows closer with sirius after regulus told her how he betrayed him and they bonded over that
lily desperately trying to make reg understand that his brother doesn't hate him...it doesn't work (he's just like his brother in that aspect. stubborn and unwilling to change his opinion)
istg that's the perfect idea for a regulily fic 🙏🏻
After her friends start urging her to think about more than school, Lily has been focusing more on her personal life and considering starting to date, which had never really been at the forefront of her mind before. She's slowly warming up to the idea of talking to James more because he may be annoying and arrogant but she can tell he's clever and she's attracted to intelligence over anything else. Then it all changes, she's been thinking about maybe asking if he wants to go out with her but then Snape's worst memory happens. Then James shows that he's still immature and rude, in front of a crowd he declares that he'd only stop physically hurting her best friend if she goes out with him and she's smacked in the face with disgust and regret for ever considering him an option. Then said best friend turns on her and she feels the last bit of strength in her snap. She hides herself away from both of them to make a point, as we know Mary helps her do it.
The anger build up and up and up until she snaps and decides she's going to be a little rebel for once, she wants to date someone to take him off her mind and show him that he needs to back off and respect her or she'll never look at him twice. Someone James hates. While it would have been the best choice, she can't go for Severus because she refuses to talk to him anymore. The wound is still too fresh. She sits and scans the great hall, specifically the Slytherin table, for days looking for somebody that not only James hates, but she finds interesting enough. She even considers Barty for a while until she sees Regulus and just thinks 'you'
It's perfect. James and Sirius would hate it, he's clever, and she's seen him around people Severus used to know so it would probably sting him too. Is she using him a little? Yeah, but his family are crazy and he's probably a bit evil so he deserves it. She doesn't expect him to actually say yes.
Until, after a few days of thinking about it and considering the negative political and social impacts of it, he does. Because fuck it, he's the favourite and the last change, he's allowed to rebel a little bit, surely. Narcissa did it and she's fine. Besides, he's been berating himself and repressing his little crush on Lily for ages, let him indulge a little.
So they do. And people go crazy. Expecially James. They slowly realise that the other is actually way more interesting than they look at first glance.
please give some of your regulily sexy headcanons I’m going to go insane maybe
i do not necessarily trust myself to speak on them because i don’t think i could conjure up anything close to what other people are,, but for you, anon, i’ll try
nsfw -> regulus will frequently go on tangents about his interests and develop a really condescending tone and 9/10 lily manages to shut him up. this usually looks like her taking the opportunity, whilst he's distracted, to push him into a seat and straddle him and put her tongue down his throat, pushing him against a wall/door/etc and putting a hand around his throat, pushing him back onto a mattress (or other surfaces) and climbing over him to ride his face
i have visions of regulily doing it in a changing room somewhere. like in a fitting room maybe. hm.
demon!regulus -> monsterfucking. meeting regulus completely altering lily's brain chemistry so she goes from a boring town’s quiet good girl to someone way dirtier. lily letting regulus go down on her in a church, lily letting regulus fuck her in the church, and in any other place semipublic. this is especially good if regulus doesn't necessarily have morals but he's aware of societal norms, you know, and he's thrown off by lily because it turns out to be her who becomes the more risky of the two of them
okay but regulily titanic au where regulus is the posh little lord who wants to escape from a horrid business deal and lily is this rough and tough girl from the slums who just wants to Make It in the world and it’s hot and sexy and a whirlwind, the boat is sinking and the air is freezing and women and children are evacuating in lifeboats, but they need each other and they’re floating out on a piece of wood and they’re going to make it, going to live, but they can’t
Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr
Prompt: june - day six (candle wax)
Word Count: 881
Cross-posted on: ao3
In the candle-lit darkness of his scavenged study, buried between towers of tomes and cabinets of curios, the ancient gleam of gold made Regulus Black’s heart stop beating.
The length of her finger was long, the girth of it slender, and the skin of it pale. Lily slipped the gift he had passed down to her, the patrimonial signet ring bearing the mark of the House Black, upon her pinkie finger with an untrained elegance. She held it between the thumb and index finger of her other hand and inspected the sigil upon it. The hounds, the sword, the stars.
‘It looks nice on you,’ he told her.
Candlelight flickered, and the ring’s shadows seemed to deepen, to become blacker. The parchment lay before him and lay before them. The ink he had used was red and as dark as her hair was now, when the shadows of an hour so late obscured its brightness and transformed it into something deep scarlet and sanguinous. It mirrored the shade of her lips as well, made-up and voluptuous and smiling at him as her eyes glistened.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she breathed. ‘It feels so heavy, Reg, but it feels like an honour, too.’
Pride swelled deep within his chest at the sound of her words, tinged with reverence for all that he had held dear for so long; lineage… honour… and now her. The echoes of his own heart were colliding before his very eyes and he had scarcely been happier. He offered her a smile of his own, soft and reassuring and eager.
‘Are you prepared?’ he asked, and his voice seemed to quiver with promise and anticipation.
His eyes darted down towards the letter, hungry to read and reread his own confession.
Within minutes, the parchment would be sealed away and tied to the leg of dear Psychopomp, hurting across the nighttime sky and off towards his parents’ house in London. Within hours, his mother would break the seal of her second-born son and her own eyes would devour his words. He knew her well enough to imagine how she would react. At first, she would furrow her heavy brow, confused and perhaps convinced someone was trying to deceive her. And then she would reexamine what he had written and realise beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her Regulus’ handwriting and her eyes would stretch wider and wider until it seemed as if they could open no more. After that, though, he could only guess whether she would curse his name or rip up his letter, but he hoped above all else that nothing he had written would make her cry; it had always been his very own duty to calm mother when she cried, and he knew his heart would ache all the worse to hear about how he wasn’t there…
But if she could not understand how much that same hearted ached for the woman before him, how it had beat in time with hers as their bodies intertwined, a perfect symphony on their secret wedding night.
The candle flickered again, and he saw Lily’s hand, beautiful and adorned, reach out for a stick of wax darker than ink and darker than shadows.
‘I’m ready,’ she promised, and her tone held the reverie of her marital vow – there was no returning, for either of them, to who they once were. They were Mr. and Mrs. Black now, lives entangles until and death and beyond.
Regulus readied himself as she readied the candle wax. His let his eyes indulge in one last, longing, and lingering look at what he had admitted in ink, and then sealed the parchment within its envelope. His heart beat loud and heavy into the quiet room, and he could hear its echo reverberate from beneath his wife’s breasts. They would share even this sensation now. He longed to take her within his arms and feel that heartbeat for himself, proud and certain beneath his touch.
She leant over the letter and her body moved down so deeply that her long curls slipped off of her shoulder and cascaded onto the desk’s dark mahogany surface like water spilling over the face of a cliff. He pulled her hair back and gently held it in place; fire, after all, could burn.
Lily held up the wax to the candlelight and lit its wick. The candle wax was a dark, serpentine green, but the wax that would become their seal was that same, lingering shade of red as the ink it concealed, as the hair he held, as the lips which he longed to kiss. Both of them watched it drip onto the parchment.
‘Your ring,’ Regulus reminded her, once enough wax had fallen.
She nodded and placed the stick of wax down in a small, silver saucer within which her warm reflection shone. He could see her flex her pinkie finger, upon which the ring she had called “heavy” rested, and could hear her breaths deepen.
When his wife lifted her hand away from the letter, he could see the imprint of her ring upon the seal. The mark of the House of Black. The crest of the lineage they now both belonged to. The sigil of their union. The hounds, the sword, the stars.
Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr
Prompt: june - day five (divide)
Word Count: 1494
Cross-posted on: ao3
‘There is one last reason,’ Regulus Black told her, his hands still folded upon the table in front of him, ‘Why I believe matrimony between you and I would be beneficial.’
The two of them were sitting in a Diagon Alley eatery that Lily had never been in before. Their seats had been reserved and positioned far from the windows in a small, secluded corner that the silvery, early-morning sun had yet to illuminate. In fact, the day was so late in rising that Black’s fingers and face were still softly lit by the flickering light of a candle which sat between them. Their food hadn’t yet arrived.
She took another sip of her butterbeer.
She didn’t quite know what to make of his proposition. Her, married again, after her first marriage had ended in such a spectacularly deprived fashion, and to a man like Regulus Black? All that he had told her and all that had transpired in the last twenty minutes had swelled the tide of questions and confusion in her mind – more than enough to make it drown in its own contemplation.
‘Is it that you’re attracted to me?’ she asked, falling back on her old, schoolgirl charm, tempered and turned ironic by the wound of her more recent past, ‘That you’ve always wanted to be with a woman of my standing? Or that you’ve secretly been in love with me since we were both at Hogwarts, and this is the first time you’ve plucked up the courage to admit it?’
Black cracked something like a smile.
‘Maybe there are several reasons,’ he added, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to make a joke or not. She couldn’t quite tell which one of her teasing suggestions had actually resonated with him, but the thought that he might have watched her when they were both young, watched her and found himself drawn to her and maybe even loved her, made her feel quite odd and embarrassed. She had barely even realised that he existed.
He continued, raising a finger in a small, muted gesture:
‘But the one I want to present to you last is this: even though a Muggle-born woman you may be, you still have the potential to negotiate the divide which has arisen within my family. This, I believe.’
Lily brushed back a strand of hair which hadn’t fallen out of place. She didn’t consider herself too old to be surprised any more – she was, after all, only twenty-four years of age – but she did view herself as more mature, more accustomed, and more practised with learning something unexpected about a man she thought she knew. The big difference, she supposed, was that she didn’t actually know Black very well.
That, and he wasn’t filling her with disappointment yet.
‘That’s quite the compliment, Mr. Black,’ she told him, her hands still idle, and fixed him with a polite and genuinely curious smile, ‘Especially considering your family’s reputation when it comes to those of my genealogy. With that in mind, may I ask why you believe this?’
There was an emergent light in his eyes, one which seemed to shine brighter than their flickering candle flame and the morning’s lazy sun both, which told her that he had very much been hoping that she would ask this question.
‘The reasons are multitude,’ he breathed, voice heavy with restrained excitement, ‘There is the very primary and basic fact that you are a very charming women – or so your reputation, and Professor Horace Slughorn’s praises, claims – and that if any soul of Muggle blood can endear herself to my mother, that it will be one possessing virtue not dissimilar to your own.’
‘You spoke earlier,’ Lily added, carefully easing her interruption in-between his words, ‘That, if I accepted your proposal, our marriage would need to produce children. Your mother, would she be happy about having a grandchild of hers be Half-blood?’
Black looked far from as perturbed as she felt.
‘My mother would rather I produce offspring than not,’ he explained, ‘And the family is in a rather interesting position right now that the both of us would do well to take advantage of, assuming you agree to our union.’
Slowly, she nodded, and said nothing.
‘Here is the situation: my mother and my uncle, now her only remaining brother, have had quite the rivalry since they were children.’ – At this, Lily found her nod become more understanding – ‘For many years now, this divide has manifested in the matter of inheritance. You see, as my grandfather’s first-born, mother believed she was always destined to receive the greater portion of her father’s legacy upon his death, and yet, as a woman, the decree of own traditions makes that impossible; it is the eldest son who always inherits. This is why mother chose to marry her own cousin: as a man, he was first in the line of succession, and, as a direct descendant, the reward that would be passed down through him would be far more value than whatever her own parents could offer her.’
He paused to take a sip of his own drink.
‘Because of this, how she now rules as master of our ancestral home despite her womanhood, neither of my uncle were particularly pleased with her. To add insult to injury, when Uncle Alphard passed, Uncle Cygnus did not receive the full inheritance he had expected to, as – and you may have heard this part from your former husband’s old friend – he donated a not insignificant part of his wealth to my brother. And so, mother’s lineage acquired more money. The animosity between them has not healed and I can assure you that it is mutual, and yet…’
Black’s voice trailed off. Something seemed to have slipped into his mind.
‘And yet,’ he cautiously phrased, ‘Uncle Cygnus still remains third in line to our home. You might say that he is my heir in the same way that… well, that I am my brother’s heir. Only the birth of a child, be they boy or girl – although, knowing how the inheritance of our family functions, you will not be surprised to hear that mother would prefer that, if our children be Half-bloods, that they be daughters as well – would be able to supersede Uncle Cygnus’ claim and secure the future of my mother’s bloodline, independent of her brothers. Does this make sense to you, Miss Evans? That my mother is in dire need of grandchildren, and that she will be willing to overlook a Muggle-born progenitor if it suits her purposes?’
Lily reached out to cup her glass, but didn’t raise it to her lips. She hadn’t missed his implications of the kind of snake den she would be wandering into if she told him “Yes.”
And yet…
He believed in her, didn’t he? Black had all but told her directly that this was the kind of trial he saw her easily overcoming. It felt good to have so much faith put in her, after she had lost so much, and by a man no less.
It felt good, too, to be desired.
She didn’t want him, not really, not yet. But, something deep within her tingled at the knowledge that a man would be so interested in her still. She wanted him to want her. Him wanting her was tantalising, was delicious. She could at least play the part of wanting him if he wanted her. And then, who could guess? He was quite the handsome gentleman, too…
‘I understand,’ she told him, and her voice carried the tiniest hint of a purr, ‘It can be so difficult when people in the same family don’t really get along anymore. But…’ She paused, and she could tell that Black was watching her face very intently. ‘But, what about Harry? What about my son?’
‘He would be as welcome as you are,’ he nonchalantly informed her, ‘As long as you were by my side. He could live with you or visit us as much as you and he want, assuming that your former husband was amicable. There shouldn’t be much animosity between him and a potential son of ours either, since both would be set to inherit different legacies from different fathers – it would not be the same arena for competition as it was for mother and her brothers.’
He stopped and his touched a chain around his neck, one which disappeared beneath his robes and left her unable to see what adorned the end.
‘Will you think about what I’ve said?’ he asked. Lily’s eyes were drawn from his hands to his face. Black’s eyes seemed to at once be keen and clouded. Beyond that, she could not even guess at what he was thinking…
Their food still hadn’t arrived, but the hunger within her belly wasn’t particularly gnawing and she fond that she didn’t mind as much anymore.
Regulily and prefect rounds? Or like, the astronomy tower, or something? Anything you want, really!
like their first round they show up and its a little weird. bc lily has listened to sirius both bitch and worry about his little brother for a few years now so, even though she’s never met him before, she knows all these little things about him. like how, when he was ten, he refused to eat anything but white foods for two months. or how, when their parents aren’t home, he locks himself in his room and plays muggle records (sirius is really proud).
she doesn’t know how to take it when he shows up in full robes and polished shoes with his hair combed back and all kinds of super proper and she - she’s in slippers and pajama shorts with her hair mostly pulled back. she sees him eyeing her and starts making her judgments, but he only solidifies them when he refuses to shake her hand when she introduces herself. muggle records or no, this guy’s a right prick.
they make the rounds in silence and they come across a ravenclaw and a hufflepuff snogging in an alcove and before she can really say anything he separates them with a quick charm and takes ten points from each house.
“don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” she asks but he just turns and keeps walking. a right super prick.
he takes ten points from a gryffindor sneaking out of the kitchens, and ten points again from another ravenclaw in the library.
“she’s just studying,” lily says but he ignores her again and it takes a lot of strength not to hex him right then and there.
then they come across three slytherins not far from their common room and lily thinks, ‘okay here we go, i bet its time for him to play favorites’ but he takes fifteen points each from the first years and follows it up with a
“you’re slytherins, you should know better. now go tell the house what you’ve done and figure out a way to get the points back.”
and lilys like - ???
so the next few rounds kind of go the same. she still shows up in pajamas and he still shows up like he’s ready for a formal dinner and they don’t talk to each other. until a month or so in he shows up in his pajamas. of course, his pajamas are still vastly more impressive than her boxer shorts and old led zeppelin t-shirt; his are black silk, with a green monogrammed r.a.b on the pocket and they’re collared and cuffed and she wouldn’t be at all surprised if his slippers were lined with real fur. she raises an eyebrow at him but he just coughs.
“i’m sick, okay? lay off.”
so she doesn’t say anything and they start their rounds like normal until eventually he asks her about her shirt.
“you listen to houses of the holy yet?”
and she tries not to make a big deal out of it bc she knows he’ll just clam right up again so she shrugs.
“yeah, got it when it came out.”
“ive been trying to get my hands on it for a while now - its a bit harder for me to do.”
she knew he meant a bit harder for him to sneak out, buy it, and sneak it back in. they sent a hufflepuff first year back to his dorm with only a few points gone.
“i have it, in my dorm, if you wanna borrow it?”
and he doesn’t really say anything bc regulus black - borrow something? but she brings it the next time anyway and hands it to him but he just stares because,
“i don’t have a record player in my room, evans.” he scoffs
“well you don’t have to be rude about it.”
so the next time shes carrying a bulky, plastic suitcase and the album and she leads a confused regulus to an empty class room and his eyes go wide when she opens the box.
“merlin, that’s a record player?”
“amazing what muggle technology can do, isn’t it?”
“why are you doing all this for me?” he asks as she plugs it in to the portable power pack. bc really, was she supposed to go all school year without music? no. but she blushes because she hadn’t realized the trouble she’d gone to until he points it out.
“i’m not doing it for you. i’m doing it for zeppelin. this album demands to be heard and, really, it’s a crime against music to deny it to anyone so just - shut up and listen.”
Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr
Prompt: june - day one (phantom)
Word Count: 2718
Cross-posted on: ao3
You were pulled by hands innumerable.
They lifted you up, closer to the light and closer to happiness.
They guided you to the truth of life.
The truth of life was love.
They pulled you towards love.
Your heart beat quicker.
You were a bride, and you were pulled by hands innumerable.
They dragged you down, closer to the dark and closer to fear.
They guided you to the truth of life.
The truth of life was death.
They pulled you toward death.
Your heart beat quicker.
You were a sacrifice.
---
On the night of the Hunter’s Moon, Lily Evans did not wake in her bed. Her eyes blinked, heavy and lethargic, and it was not the warm, fire-lit girl’s dormitory, or even the scarlet-draped Common Room, which greeted her.
Instead, she stood in the draughty and hallowed halls of Hogwarts Castle.
Fear lingered over her heart, a remnant of her disturbed sleep, as she clutched at her nightdress. What if Filch or his cat where nearby? What if they had seen her walk out from behind the Fat Lady’s portrait and into the quiet night, unaware that she was not conscious.
She tried not to think of the phantom hands which had pulled her out of her bed and haunted her nightmares.
As quick as a mouse fleeing salivating, feline fangs, she scurried into the shadows. Even as she tried to listen, her heart beat, louder than a drum and almost as loud as thunder, in her ears. She could swear that she heard it echoing out through the lonely corridor.
Feeling daring, she chanced her fate and peered out from behind the pillar she had hurriedly hidden herself behind. She pushed a curtain of stray hairs away from her eyes, and saw the shadows form into shapes as her gaze adjusted to the darkness.
The world around her was still. It seemed that the only soul that walked behind the castle’s walls was hers.
As if expecting the lamp-like eyes of Flich’s cat, or the hovering and judgmental apparition of one of Hogwarts’ ghosts to gleam down at her, Lily looked upwards. Where the castle’s stone looked grey and colourless at night, the ceiling above her seemed almost impossible to penetrate. The higher the walls rose (and they seemed, even below the seventh floor as she guessed she was, to rise up to scrape against the shadow of Heaven) the darker that grey became.
It was only the moon and the distant twinkling of stars, a galaxy away, which offered any illumination. She felt her gaze drift towards the windows, where the silhouettes of gargoyles and turrets cast odd shadows through the diamond-shaped glass, and she saw that tonight’s moon hung large, full, and almost bone-white.
It was as if it were a giant, singular eye glowing out from the velvet tapestry of the nighttime sky. The castle was still and cautious beneath its watch.
Lily released the breath of relief she had only been half aware she was holding. She hated how much it sounded like a death-rattle leaving her lungs.
The back of her neck prickled, and the phantom-fate of her dream resurfaced.
She had been dragged down, down, down to depths as dark at the castle’s highest turret. She had been immersed in water so cold it was almost frozen. And she had been held down by hands, slippery and wet and so, so human…
Was this a dream of her own death?
She shivered, and blamed it on the chill of an autumn’s night. And yet, when she caught her reflection in the window’s shine…
Her chuckle was dark and fleeting. Why would she even think that she looked like a ghost already? Sure, her skin was pale and her nightdress was long and white and sheet-like. But there was still life inside her, wasn’t there? Her hair was still vivid and red
(like a halo of blood)
like darkened flames. Her eyes were still sparking and green
(like the killing curse)
like emeralds. She pressed her hand against her chest and felt it rise and fall with the effort of her lungs. If she wasn’t still alive, unlike the vision of her dreams, then why did she breathe? It had just been a nightmare, and she was just being silly.
Lily glanced up at the moon again.
Severus’ fault, she told herself, all his fault for reading too many ghost stories and going off on some sort of conspirators’ rant about werewolves during Arithmancy… Honestly, as if Dumbledore would allow such a dangerous creature into the school. He was just being harsh and paranoid and upset. There couldn’t possibly be…
Something had drawn her eye. Something dark and large and outside the window. Something cold and fathomless.
The wind howled, and it sounded just like the phantom’s from Severus Snape’s imagination But Lily had almost forgotten all of her thoughts about werewolves. After all, her gaze was fixated on the inky surface of the Black Lake.
A shiver ran down her spine, and a horrible thought crept into her mind.
Was the water she had dreamt of drowning in
(not drowned)
where at Hogwarts?
(made to drown)
Her body trembled. Without even looking, she could tell that the hairs upon her arms were erect and that her skin had turned to gooseflesh. She hugged her elbows and drew her arms in closer, across her breasts, and the fabric of her nightdress felt frailer than it had ever seemed. If someone where to find her out here, undressed as she was…
Her mind recalled her earlier thought. If someone were to find her now, they might mistake her for a ghost.
(already one foot in the grave)
Lily bit her lip, and tried to push her fear to the back of her mind. She was in Gryffindor, for God’s sake! Surely bravery coursed through her blood as much as it did for any of her housemates. Acting like a little sleepwalking foretold her a dreadful and certain demise was foolish, and putting far too much faith in a branch of magic she had specifically decided against studying, and that everything she had ever read or heard about told her that it was imprecise and vague. She should turn on her heel and stride right back to the Common Room and put these thought behind her, it was only—
Her gaze drifted over to the Black Lake again, and her treacherous mind whispered thoughts of fate.
The full moon shone in the dark mirror of water and the blackened shore lapped at stone and dirt. She could almost see figures creeping toward it…
She wondered.
If she was destined to die down there, in the shadow of Hogwarts castle, then who among its students would be the one to pull her down… After all, it was human
(slippery and scaly and wet)
hands which she had felt drag her to its depths. The faces of boys she passed day by day – which she know of more than knew – flickered though her mind like a candle which had burnt its wick.
Slytherin, her imaginings hissed, purebloods.
The accusation felt right. In her mind, she pushed past faces like she was pushing through a crowd. The Slytherin boys looked ugly and vindictive and already guilty.
(heartless)
(sadistic)
(obsessed with dark magic)
And they hated girls like her, didn’t they, Muggle-born witches with too much talent and charm and a willingness to steal the praise of their Head of House, snatching away the admiration which should have belonged to them with a flick of her dark red curls and a wicked smirk upon her lips…
She pictured them, heads together and plotting in the darkness, averting their gaze only to glance in the direction of the Black Lake, their eyes gleaming with hatred as sharp a knife’s steel. It was only too easy to imagine them skulking through the castle once everyone else had gone to sleep
(just like now)
hunting her down and accosting her with wands drawn. A flick of the wrist would levitate her,
(rising like a puppet)
high enough that her struggles meant nothing to them and they could glide her through the castle and down to the water’s edge…
And then they would drown her.
Lily felt nothing but revulsion. With one last glance through the window, down toward the Black Lake, she stalked back the way she had come. Surely, she couldn’t have gotten too far from Gryffindor Tower. About ten minutes of walking – fifteen if she had to be careful and it looked as if Peeves, or Filch, or that cat, or something else might be lurking – and the Fat Lady’s portrait would swing shut behind her and she wouldn’t have to watch shadows for any prowling Slytherin boy looking to take advantage of the situation and her loneliness…
She pushed open a door she hoped would take her in the right direction and cast her gaze up a towering staircase. If her overly-agitated fantasies had any merit, she could only imagine who was waiting to ensnare her at the top. She pictured the faces of her dream-adversaries, sneering and leering, as easily as if they had manifested from the darkness around her.
Mulciber.
(merciless)
Avery.
(hateful)
Rosier.
(violent)
Wilkes.
(ruthless)
Severus.
Severus.
Her heart skipped a beat.
He was friends with them, wasn’t he? And hadn’t she seen, out of the corner of her denial, him smile when he had overheard their words
(mudblood)
whispered across the classroom at a girl only a row behind her? Hadn’t she thought she heard Severus’ laugh when they were shown curses never to be repeated
(unforgivable)
and a joke had slipped out of Rosier’s mouth?
She tried to walk a little faster. This corridor seemed to be as silent as the last. The phantom-weight of her wand, left thoughtlessly upon her nightstand by a dreaming wanderer, ached against her delicately-clothed thigh.
If his friends asked Severus to hurt her, would he?
Lily froze.
It wasn’t just the thought of her oldest friend – the one she had known before Hogwarts, the one who had assured her that it was right for her to be a witch – being asked to kill her which had made her blood and body frigid.
She had spotted movement ahead.
As quickly as she could without making too much noise, she darted into a darkened corner, hidden in the shadows of an unlit pillar, and tried to make her breath seem light, like it was only a phantom of the wind.
Her worries had conjured up another face from the dark.
What if it was not boys from Slytherin who were fated to kill her?
(always looking to cause trouble)
What, instead, if it were those from her own house?
(in the habit of casting hexes at anyone in their path)
Her mind’s eye saw dark hair and an arrogant smile. What if instead of Mulciber and Severus, the hands which had dragged her down had belonged to Potter’s gang?
A small part of her felt disgust and hatred – doubting her own house, doubting those who had always hated the Dark Arts and pompous, prejudice purebloods – towards her own mind, and yet their faces swam before her vision as easily as the others had.
Pettigrew.
(sycophantic)
Lupin.
(gaze averted)
Black.
(vicious)
Potter.
(obsessed)
She heard footsteps, and she heard them drawing closer with each passing moment.
Her mind saw the four of them lift her, not by magic, but by brute, Mugglish force. They shared her arms and legs between themselves, the smiles between them savage and the look which passed between Potter and Black the most savage of all.
The figure was nearing still.
Her struggles were real to them, visceral and thrashing. Their hands grabbed at her flesh with tightening grips as they ignored her cries. She could hear Potter murmur, his voice deep and sickly-pleasant:
It doesn’t have to be like this, Evans…
Just agree to go out with me, and we’ll let you go…
Think about it, Evans…
Just one little date, and you get to live…
She felt like breaking into a run, fleeing with all her might to goodness knows where. Her pulse quickened and her own desire to remain hidden was hurled to the wind. Her lurker was almost upon her now. She whirled around, eyes wide and fist ready and saw—
‘Black,’ she growled.
Black’s eyes narrowed. She knew immediately from his demeanour and James Potter’s absence that he was not the moon-addled anxieties of her mind made manifest, but instead the younger
(slytherin)
Black brother. The one who at least usually kept to himself.
‘Who else is here?’ he demanded, looking somewhat disturbed and speaking so fast that she almost couldn’t catch his words.
Lily looked at him, confused and affronted.
‘Only you,’ she stated, folding her arms across her chest and feeling somewhat relived that he didn’t look down.
He wasn’t making any sense. She was certain that other than the two of them – Black obviously being the phantom-like shadow she had spotted lurking at the bottom of the corridor – that the wing of the castle they had both found themselves was empty; silent and devoid of wandering souls.
Still, her eyes echoed his and narrowed.
‘Why did you think that I was with someone?’ she questioned. She could tell from his face that the look she was giving Black was unnerving him somewhat; there was a disoriented glaze across his eyes and his pupils flickered.
‘I heard laughter,’ he stated, and his lips tightened. ‘And a man’s voice.’
Lily chuckled darkly. She wasn’t happy and she didn’t find Black funny – and the idea, too, that he had heard some strange man laughing and lurking around the castle wasn’t a particularly pleasant thought – but she nevertheless wanted to make him feel more disoriented. The memories of her fears, of sadistic Slytherins and brutish Black boys, not yet drowned out, made it feel like the best course of action was to make him seem small.
‘You must be hearing things,’ she told him, yawning, ‘I haven’t noticed anything unusual about tonight other than a Slytherin stalking around Gryffindor Tower – and by that, I mean other than you, Black. Maybe you just imagined hearing laughter. Or you hallucinated it. Or you dreamt it…’
Black pulled back and looked around, scanning the corridor where he had found her with darting eyes. It was the first time that she had actually looked at him since she had turned around and seen him. He wasn’t dressed for a nighttime walk and she could see that his nightclothes were sticking to his flesh in places. His hair, too, was lankily pressed against his brow and his body seemed to be covered in a layer of sweat, almost as if…
(you dreamt it)
She saw his Adam’s apple bob. The look in his searching eyes seemed lost and confused, as if he didn’t know where he was and how he had arrived here.
Lily tilted her head. Strands of her own hair fell across her face and she peered out at him through them. She noticed, too, that he wasn’t carrying a wand.
‘What did the voice sound like?’ she asked, and Black blinked at the sound of her speaking not unpleasantly.
He looked away from her and towards the window. She wondered if he found himself looking into the dark depths of the Black Lake.
‘High. Cruel,’ he said and his shoulders seemed to stiffen, ‘It doesn’t matter. I should get back to my dormitory.’
But he didn’t walk away. Not yet.
She could tell that something was bothering him. Something, she thought it was very likely, that spawned from his dreams. The same dreams that had him unconsciously walking through the castle and coming close to crossing her path. She wondered, if the two of them were closer, if they had spoken to each other before tonight, whether he would have voiced what was causing his hidden hurt.
She wanted to say something, but nothing sounded right. And, above all, she had wanted to ask whether he had died in his dreams.
Her voice stayed silent.
And the musings of her mind asked whether he would have wanted to know the same…
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