tw: mild depictions of implied abuse and similar themes
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FOUR OF CUPS
upright — apathy, contemplation,
feeling disconnected, melancholy, discontent
reversed — clarity, awareness, acceptance,
choosing happiness, depression, negativity
JANUARY 1975
WINTER HOLIDAYS AT 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just as dreadful as usual, especially considering that such occurrences had long become a norm.
Regulus Black could hear Sirius quarreling with their mother about how he kept skipping events in their pure-blood society, dwindling their reputation, and making a mess out of his life by hanging out with scum.
Their words sound like a replay of a broken record and Regulus was more than familiar with how this would go.
She keeps shouting at Sirius, telling him that it's not merely about him— that he had a duty to uphold, but instead he gives them nothing but disappointment and shame.
Then again, Sirius could say the same for them.
He argues back and says he's not some tool they could use at their disposal, failing to realize that perhaps they had already turned his little brother into one.
.
The sound of their yelling manages to make its way to the comfort of his room but Regulus decides it was best not to use a muting charm regardless of the way their noise picked on every fiber of his being.
He believed that it would be best if he were kept in the know. That way, he's always prepared. That way, he knows when the time is right because, unlike his brother, Regulus' patience is practically unrivaled.
The boy waits and he waits and he waits.
It's all that he knows to do.
He waits until everyone else is asleep. He waits until no one's looking. He waits until the screaming finally stops because what they don't tell you is that patience is not only a virtue but also a rather important skill required to keep up his little charade.
It's only when their raised voices finally come to a halt that he gets out of his bed and makes his way to his brother's door.
His knuckles knock thrice on the Mahogany wood.
.
When Sirius Black opened his bedroom door, he was slightly taken aback to see his brother standing on the other side. If anything, considering that the younger Black had the tendency to be passive to a fault, Regulus would have been the last person he expected.
Thus why all he manages to say is, "Oh, it's just you."
Regulus also doesn't fail to notice the sigh Sirius let out at the sight of him. Whether it was of relief or disappointment, he can't exactly tell which.
In the end, Sirius merely turns his back away from him, the door still left open as he lies at the edge of his bed.
.
Supposing that his brother made no move to stop him from entering his room, Regulus tries to take it as a good sign.
To be honest, it's not easy taking the first step.
With that thought, his mind strays towards a particular blue-eyed maiden. He wonders if this was how uncomfortable Amaris felt around him.
Somehow, the girl had been continuously haunting his thoughts. It's even harder not to think about her when every little thing manages to remind him of her.
.
The appearance of Sirius' room was an outright abomination in their parents' eyes, but beyond that, it was a way of protest.
Apart from the velvet curtains, the wallpaper, and the candle chandelier that came with the place, banners of crimson and gold hung around his room; the trademark colors of a Gryffindor. Alongside them were posters of Muggle ladies and motorcycles pasted all over the walls.
A glimpse of Sirius' walls once again reminds him of Amaris —of how different their worlds truly were— so he tears his eyes away from it, with a tad more force than he intended.
He almost scrunches his nose at his brother's tastelessness, but he knows better than to show his disgust outright. No doubt that it would only cause him to start another row.
.
His eyes fall back on Sirius, carefully observing the red tint on the older boy's cheek, alongside the abrasion on his lip.
Regulus finally breaks the deafening silence when he asks, "Father hit you again?"
"No, the wench caught me sneaking back in," Sirius laughs mirthlessly, explaining his latest injury. "Slapped me for talking back. I got cut by her ring."
"You have got to learn when to shut up," the younger boy mutters.
Sirius attempts to lighten up the mood as if it were his own way of protecting his brother from their dreadful reality. "The old man doesn't hit me all the time. It's just to shut me up. He always stops after just one. If anything, that old hag is worse. Nearly bled my ears out, I tell you."
Regulus doesn't know how to respond to that. For one, he doesn't miss the way that he hadn't even referred to them as 'Father' or 'Mother'. He himself would never have the audacity to.
He knew. Sirius knew.
They're too different and for that same reason, it's a little bit awkward.
They only talk during the holidays after all and Sirius wasn't even home for most of it—
'Hah. What home?' the Slytherin almost scoffs, fully aware that his brother had long stopped considering it as one. It's a slight jab to his chest because unlike Sirius, who was often welcome at the Potters, Regulus had nowhere else to go.
They're all he has.
So instead of condoning the other boy's qualms against their parents, he only tosses a vial to his brother.
.
Sirius catches it easily, but as soon as he realizes what it was, he doesn't really know what to make out of it. He looks back to meet his brother's eyes as his thumb traces over the potion's label.
Essence of Dittany.
'Huh. Who knew there was some good left in this little git?' the Gryffindor snorts in half-amusement, eyeing the boy as he sat up from his bed.
Regulus makes no move to speak or do anything more than that, and it manages to strike something in him. Even if Sirius Black wasn't that good of a brother, he still finds the need to protect him from the wretchedness of their household.
"They've never done it to you, have they?"
"No. Not at all… You, on the other hand—"
"It's not as bad as you think," Sirius cuts his brother off. "The more frequent it gets, the more I build immunity."
His words do nothing to assure the boy.
"That's absolute bollocks and you know it," Regulus lets out a derisive scoff.
They can never see eye to eye because Sirius doesn't know the other half of the picture.
He's oblivious to the way that his dear little brother takes the brunt of their scolding when he's away from home. He's oblivious to how their old man believed that Regulus should have been keeping on the straight path— why their mother had been acting batshit crazy, continuously berating her older son in order to protect her younger ward.
And sure, she's not really any better. The woman's actions can't be excused by her intentions. She's hysterical, manipulative, and ballistic. Even so, Regulus Black can't find it in himself to go against her.
Meanwhile, his dear older brother only continues to add fuel to the already catastrophic fire.
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Regulus heaves a deep sigh, shaking his head as he cuts to the chase, "I know you were at the Potters. I don't see why you had to make some excuse including a Mudblood. If you just learn when to shut your mouth, they wouldn't go this far. It's almost like you were asking for them to beat you—"
Despite the way that he hadn't expected his brother to see behind his excuse or the way that he had grimaced at the notorious slur, Sirius puts it all behind him and asks bluntly, "What did you really come here for, Reg?"
He came there to warn him, to remind him to protect himself, to tell him to quit being so stupid.
"You should stop giving them ammunition. I know you're riling them up on purpose," Regulus sighed. "Why you're so foolish to even dare do something like that is completely beyond me but—"
"What the hell do you know?" Sirius spat, eyes narrowed dangerously, having taken offense in the Slytherin's words. It felt like they put Regulus up to it and he wouldn't put it past his parents to orchestrate such an underhanded scheme.
Tension fills the room.
He hisses before his brother even gets a chance to speak, "You keep eating up the crap those bigots have been saying. Do you enjoy being the bloody golden child so much that you can't even open your mind up for a second—"
"I didn't choose—"
"That's right," the older boy argued. "You're a sodding coward and you never choose anything! You have never stood up for something you believed in. You tell them what they want to hear just to save your own skin—"
Regulus doesn't dare look him in the eye but he snidely thinks, fists clenched beside him, 'What do you fucking know?'
"—Come back and preach when you finally know what it's like to treasure something beyond yourself—"
Despite being aggravated by his brother's words, the younger Black makes no move to show it. He doesn't even bother to listen to the rest of it.
He doesn't need to take this load of crap, so instead, he turns his heel and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
It's loud.
Everything's still loud.
The noise keeps echoing in his ears.
. . .
Once Regulus returns to his own room, he collapses on his bed, heaving a deep breath as if it would be enough to maintain his composure. It's nothing like his brother's room, surrounded by emerald and silver colors instead.
He was the pride of his house but the family crest over his bed was nothing but a burden to bear. It's a reminder of his duty and the consequences he would face for any mistake.
Seeing it makes it feel like something has lodged itself in his throat. The scream he's holding back is contained in his chest like a bomb just waiting to explode… And yet, even after all of that, he can't bring himself to admit that what Sirius had claimed isn't true.
After all, he's such a bloody coward that he managed to fuck up the one good thing he had going in his life—
And it wasn't even much of anything.
She was just a friend; a Muggle-born witch perhaps, but she's more real than anybody else that he's ever met. Yet he continuously pushed her away, fighting himself on it and adamantly denying the truth.
He almost scorns the irony of the way that he only admitted such a thing when it's too late because now, he was quite literally alone.
He misses those moments in the tower where he actually feels human— where he catches a glimpse of the light amongst the darkness he is shrouded in.
But it has flown further and further away.
It's out of his reach.
And Merlin, why is it always so hard to breathe?
.
He tries not to let his brother's words get to him, but for once in his life, ever so desperate to prove others wrong, Regulus refuses to give in.
It's a rarity of sorts but if Amaris Leclair had stayed by his side despite all those snide remarks and crass words he'd spout at her, then surely he can deal with being avoided like a plague.
He's reminded of that bit of light that morphs into the flicker of courage.
So he gets up from his bed to make his way to the dresser, pulling out a parchment and a pen— he holds the lion engraved fountain pen she gave him between his fingers.
It's an act of desperation rather than that of courage but he's clinging unto that flicker of light before it dies out.
It's not too late. Not yet, at least.
But despite all that, the words don't seem to come easy.
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He's left sitting in front of his desk tapping the tip of his pen against the table, unable to find the right words to say.
He usually presents himself so eloquently but he can't even compose a damn letter to send via owl and it doesn't fail to vex him.
To make matters worse, it doesn't take long for his doubts to start creeping in…
'Is it enough for everything you've put her through?'
'She clearly didn't want to see you.'
'Are you prepared to face the consequences?'
Regulus only manages to write her name down, but he's already crumpling the sheet of paper, throwing it across the room.
It's not enough.
A letter won't be sincere enough compared to how much time and effort she placed into befriending him, so he takes it upon himself to do the same for her.
An eye for an eye.
This time, Regulus takes another sheet of paper with a different intention in mind. Although it's smaller than before, he scribbles only a few words down and folds it up neatly.
And when the time comes, after the end of the dreadful week, Regulus Black slips the small note he made into the girl's pockets on their train ride back to Hogwarts.
AMARIS LECLAIR FINDS A NOTE stuffed in her robes when she rummages her pockets for a Sherbert Lemon. The Sorting and the Great Feast had just ended and she was about to head to the dormitories like her fellow Hufflepuffs, but then she unfolds the small piece of parchment and finds herself utterly dumbfounded.
Written in an elegant script, it said:
Meet me at the Astronomy Tower, please.
She had to go over it thrice just in case she was… Well, being delusional—
After all, she's not completely dense. Amaris knows who could have possibly written it. In fact, there was only one person who came to mind because the Astronomy Tower was their haven.
But at the same time, she's also clinging unto denial, aware that Regulus Black was never one to initiate a thing.
Besides, what could he possibly have to say to her?
He already made it clear to his friends that he didn't want to be associated with a Mudblood but what if—
.
Amaris swallows a lodge in her throat, fearing that he'd actually say it to her face. Although she had built an immunity to his little jabs and snide remarks, that particular tone of his voice still leaves a pang in her chest, and she has to force herself not to allow tears to well up in her eyes.
'It's not the first time he called you one,' she has to remind herself. 'You already knew he's always thought of you as one... And it's not like you can avoid him forever... Best to rip off the bandage as quick as possible and for all you know, it might not even be him.'
And with that in mind, the Hufflepuff finds herself begrudgingly climbing the staircase of the tower later that night.
It was rather underhanded of them not to write the name of the sender. This way, she felt obliged to hear out whoever it could possibly be on the slight chance that it may not have been Regulus.
But what were the chances of that?
When she finally does reach the top, her bright blue eyes meet those familiar stony grey orbs and she pictures them full of hatred and spite.
Lost in the anxious thoughts that gnawed on her head, the girl stumbles a few steps back just like she had when they first met. She feels her blood run cold and in less than a second she manages to take everything back and… She flees—
Because Amaris Leclair was nothing if not a coward.
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Regulus himself hadn't even realized when it was that he had stood up, but the next thing he knows, he was chasing after the maiden down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower.
The lights are dim, and he can't fathom how the hell she was running this quickly in the dark despite her short legs and her usual clumsy demeanor. The maiden certainly had a talent for evading him; Slytherin's prized Seeker, at that.
In the end, he's unable to do anything but call out—
"Ari—"
They both come to a halt when the name escapes his lips. Her shoulders stiffen but from the way that they hadn't resumed their game of chase, he tries to take it as a good sign.
That is if he wasn't panicking on the inside.
It would have been the perfect opportunity to catch his breath, but he's only ever called her that in his head because saying her name meant acknowledgment. He made it this far without ever uttering it, but to use a nickname for fuck's sake.
Merlin, this girl never fails to disrupt the meticulous order he had maintained all his life.
Feeling on the edge from his little slip-up, the Slytherin flinches when the girl turns around to face him. He would probably have to give himself a good talking to for losing his typical composed demeanor, but at that moment, he fails to think of anything else aside from the sapphire eyes boring into him.
He wishes he can read her as well as she did in regard to him.
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In truth, the blue-eyed maiden doesn't know what to think —doesn't know what to feel— because if this was his own conniving scheme to stop her from running away then he sure as hell succeeded.
But she can't get ahead of herself. Not again.
Her lips were pursed in a thin line, expression almost unreadable despite the way she was desperately trying to stifle the flicker of joy inside her. She doesn't want to hope for nothing.
"My name is Amaris," she corrects him, wondering if perhaps he merely forgot but the exasperated sigh that escapes his lips manages to tell her otherwise.
"I know."
"Then, was that a slip of the tongue or were you trying to use a nickname?"
Regulus feels the heat creep up his face. He's actually thankful the tower was dark enough because otherwise, she would've seen the crimson tint that ran until his ears.
Bloody hell, only she can make him lose his composure.
He grumbles, "Shut up."
"Alright, then," Amaris broke the silence, unaware of what he was thinking, having been too caught up in her own insecurities. "I'll go."
Before he thinks his actions through, Regulus grabs her wrist frantically, words hastily escaping him, "No, wait— Just—"
"I heard it you know…" she cuts him off, averting her eyes away from him, gazing towards the ground.
"Heard what?" the boy furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
She refused to look him in the eye as she muttered something incoherently.
He had to ask twice, "Amaris, what did you hear?"
The way he was calling her by name was what truly prompted her to answer.
She repeats her words a tad bit louder, voice still soft but enough for him to hear. "I heard you call me a… Mudblood in front of your friends in the library… And I— I know that you said it to me quite a lot, but it sounded different— I understand that you're ashamed of me but if you don't want to get along with me that badly, then… Then, I—"
.
He doesn't fail to notice the way her voice broke as she forced the words out but alas, it finally made sense.
His grey orbs observed her carefully, watching the way she fiddled with her fingers or the way her figure recoiled in his presence. He realizes that perhaps he overestimated her resilience a tad too much.
She was just a girl. Of course, she wouldn't have a heart of steel— a heart of gold, maybe, but everyone had a breaking point.
"You were there? How much did you hear?" He lets out another sigh, but she mistakes the ire he held for himself as something directed towards her.
"You don't have to worry," the Hufflepuff interrupted him, attempting to escape his grasp as if it would be doing him a favor. "I told you before, I won't bother you forever. I'm sorry for being too persistent."
Somehow having her apologize for his faults was even worse.
.
"Ari, wait," Regulus holds her wrist a tad bit tighter. Hearing that name escape his lips causes her knees to quiver ever so slightly.
Merlin, she's trying her best to kill that flicker of hope inside her. She really is but her heart keeps doing little backflips in her chest, aware of how rare it was for him to call her that way— much less, hear the gentle tone of his voice.
"Look at me," Regulus says because that's the only way he knows how to convey his sincerity.
Her azure eyes meet his silver-like orbs for the nth time that evening, though this one lasts longer than it had before.
The Slytherin finally lets go of her wrist in an attempt to not pressure her any further.
"I only said those things because they were… They were planning to hurt you, alright?" Regulus began in hopes that she'd believe him, though he can't really hold it against her if she chooses to do otherwise.
"They were picking which Mud—" he clears his throat to correct his words, "Muggle-born to use as a scapegoat for dark spells, and I… I had to find a way to get them off your back."
"You were trying to protect me?" she says carefully, expression still unreadable, though considering how he still hasn't seen her smile at him, he doubts he ought to feel hopeful.
It takes another beat. His breath is caught in his throat as those sapphire eyes continue to watch him as if deciphering an incomprehensible rune.
"Y-Yes," he stammered despite how it was killing his pride.
"Thank you but you still shouldn't have let someone else take my place, you know," she points out calmly, taking his words into consideration.
Regulus glares, reverting to his typical self as he spat, "That's your takeaway?"
"Why'd you do it?"
"What do you mean why?" he sputtered. "Are you— Are you dull?"
Trying to seem unfazed by his insults and condescending behavior, she crosses her arms as she demands firmly, "I don't want to get the wrong message again, so out with it clearly, Black."
Regulus lets out another sigh. (He realizes he's been doing that a lot around her.)
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"Look, I can't associate myself with you," the boy admits ruefully. "The repercussions are dreadful. I'll never hear the end of it and they're going to come after you. It'll be bad for both of us…"
"But do you want to?" Amaris interrupted.
"What?"
"Are you alright with being friends with me?"
He returns the question, eyeing her just as intensely, "Are you?"
"I asked first, Reg," she prompted, aware that they'd be going in circles otherwise.
Regulus reluctantly admits, "I want to be friends with you."
"Even if I'm a Mudblood?"
"Why would you—" Call yourself that?
He almost looks scandalized to hear her refer to herself as such, but he holds himself back because he shouldn't be one to talk.
Instead, he cuts himself off and heaves another deep breath before looking back into those cerulean eyes to show how much he meant it.
"For what it's worth, it doesn't seem to matter anymore."
And she smiles.
Salazar.
She gives him another one of those bright and lovely smiles that he hasn't seen in a long time; a smile that actually manages to reach her eyes, proving how genuine it was.
(It's breathtaking.)
And seeing such makes him realize that maybe he was never a match for her.
Regulus lets out a relieved (and defeated) sigh as soon as he hears Amaris say, "Well, it's about time."
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By the end of it, they climb back up the tower almost as if nothing happened. She tells him about her holidays and asks him about his own.
He answers her questions and compares his recent Christmas holidays to how he used to spend them with his brother during his childhood.
They talk under the moon and the stars just as they had before, oblivious to three firsts that had occurred that night:
(1) The first note they exchanged.
(2) The first time he called her by her name.
(3) The first time he realized how much he adored seeing her smile.
Not to mention—
For the first time in a long time, Regulus Black felt like he could breathe.
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Here onwards are a collection of notes passed around by Amaris Leclair and Regulus Black through the span of January to February 1975.
[ January 15, 1975 ]
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Reg, psst.
》Slipped into page 85 of the book 'Magical Drafts and Potions,' owned by Amaris Leclair:
You don't know what it means to be discreet, do you?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
It's not like anyone's looking!
》Placed under Amaris Leclair's pencil case while the Professor is roaming:
Stop passing notes in class, you're gonna get us caught by Slughorn again.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
I'm confident that you can use your charm and charisma to win him over again, you little kiss-up.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
I don't want to hear that from a Hufflepuff who has a knack for lying.
What do you want?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
How do you do number 5 in our Arithmancy homework?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
That's what you've been doing the past eight minutes?
We're in Potions, you dolt. Watch the fucking cauldron or better yet, stir the bloody thing.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Language, Black.
And may I remind you that you were the one who wouldn't even let me near the cauldron despite my continuous offers to take over.
Now, about Arithmancy… Time is precious and this assignment is due this Friday.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
First of all, that was because I couldn't trust you with the potion after the way your robes almost caught on fire. Secondly, you have more than enough time for that assignment.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
I've been working on it since we got it last week.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
Swot.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
It would be nice if I actually were one.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
I'm not going to tell you the answer for free.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
I'm not asking you to tell me. I need you to teach me.
I'll give you candy in return. My sister owled me a bunch of Sherbert Lemons.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
No thanks.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Pretty please?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
Library. After supper. Don't make me wait.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Thank you!
[ January 31, 1975 ]
》Slipped into Amaris Leclair's book bag during breakfast at the Great Hall:
Astronomy Tower. Tonight, 6:30.
R. A. B.
》Slipped into Regulus Black's hand in the corridor after 2nd period:
Can't. I'm studying in the library again. Maybe tomorrow?
A.
》Slipped into Amaris Leclair's book bag during lunch at the Great Hall:
Are you staying at your usual seat by the window?
R. A. B.
》Slipped into Regulus Black's hand after lunch at the Great Hall:
Yes.
A.
》Slipped into the pocket of Amaris Leclair's robes in the corridor after 3rd period:
I'll drop by but I swear to Merlin, if we don't return to the Astronomy Tower by tomorrow, I'll drag you out there myself.
R. A. B.
》Slipped into Regulus Black's robes in the corridor on the way to 4th period:
Can you teach me Transfiguration in the tower?
A.
》Slipped into Amaris Leclair's book bag in the corridor after 4th period:
It's a Friday. You shouldn't even be studying that late at night. I doubt any knowledge I'd pass on would manage to enter your head. Then again, it's not like there's any even when I do.
R. A. B.
》Slipped into the pocket of Regulus Black's robes before dinner at the Great Hall:
I promise to take a break the whole weekend and get you something in Honeydukes. Please?
A.
》Slipped into Amaris Leclair's book bag during dinner at the Great Hall:
Fine. I'll meet you there.
Stop trying to bribe me with sweets.
R. A. B.
[ February 12, 1975 ]
》Slipped into Regulus Black's book bag in the corridors after their first period:
Astronomy tower tonight?
A.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
Why weren't you at dinner last night?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Was at the infirmary with Mary.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
What happened?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
She fell off her broom during Quidditch practice.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
Gryffindors.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Hey! I heard that scoff.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
So what? You're a Hufflepuff.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Who has 3 Gryffindor friends!
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
Well, honorary Gryff, we're going to crush your house this Quidditch season if MacDonald's playing in the field.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Rude.
And just because I cheer for you two doesn't mean I'm not cheering for the Hufflepuffs. I'll have you know that our roster for this year gave their all every practice.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
Why were you the one taking care of her anyway? Madam Pomfrey should be there. Is babysitting your best mates always such a hobby of yours?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
Is making fun of people a hobby of yours?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
I thought you know me better by now.
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Regulus Black:
I'll take that as a yes.
Speaking of which, can I also get a yes to the invitation I gave you or do I have to coerce you into it with lemon drops again?
》Slid across the counter of the Potions lab towards Amaris Leclair:
I don't even like candy.
》Slipped into Amaris Leclair's hand after Potions while exiting the lab:
Meet you there.
.
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FEBRUARY 1975
AMARIS AND REGULUS both find themselves in a new pattern. Although their nightly visits to the Astronomy Tower don't necessarily change, they do schedule their numerous rendezvous instead of leaving it up to fate like they used to.
Post the incident in the library, they agree not to seem too close to each other in class.
Taking a page out of Regulus' book, they opted to use other means, choosing to sneak tiny notes into each other's belongings whenever they passed each other in the halls.
They learn that being discreet is the best possible way to stay together because in the public's gaze nothing good can possibly come from their friendship. Like he had claimed, there were consequences for both of them—
But hey, they found a way around it and they actually stuck by it— And that was actually saying a lot, considering the archetypical Slytherin's nature of self-preservation.
Albeit, he thinks that was likely due to Amaris' overwhelming willpower to maintain their friendship despite the costs.
On another note, it wasn't a decision he regrets making. Not that he'd ever admit that. It was already one thing to lose to her persistence, it would be another blow to his pride if he just so happened to... you know—
.
"Reggie," she calls him out of the blue, midway through some discussion about the creatures in the Black Lake that were visible in the Slytherin common room.
They're a few centimeters closer to each other as they sat side-by-side at the Astronomy Tower, knees touching and shoulders pressed against each other.
He averts his eyes from the sky to narrow his eyes at her, "Don't call me that."
"Regulus," Amaris calls his name again.
"What?"
He gives her a pointed look and it goads her on to chant, a mischievous grin on her face as she called, "Regulus. Regulus. Reg—"
The Slytherin finally cuts her off, slight annoyance evident from the typical sneer plastered on his face. "What the hell do you want, Leclair?"
(She just wanted to hear her name come from his mouth.)
"Nope. Try again."
He huffs indignantly, realizing what she was after all along, "Amaris."
"See, you can do it if you try," she laughs, all happy and content before slyly admitting, "To be honest, I still can't get used to hearing you say my name… But, if I had a say in it, I'd still prefer the nickname you gave me."
Her family calls her 'Amy,' and her friends use 'Ames,' but no one calls her 'Ari' and it's… different.
A good 'different,' Amaris thinks because if someone had told her three years ago that Regulus Black would call her such, she would have bet a hundred galleons and claimed they were lying.
Hell, she'd accept the possibility that he'd call her by her surname, but that would have already been the most she'd expected from him.
She finds herself appreciating this difference for a change.
.
"Well, appreciate it because that was the first and last time you'll ever hear it from me," Regulus snorts in amusement.
They both know he doesn't mean it but nevertheless, Amaris feigns hurt, "You're really mean, you know that?"
He smirks as if he won, although it dawns on him that he definitely hadn't when the Hufflepuff continued to bargain, "Can't you at least say it once a day?"
He thinks it's not too different from a year ago, how she had limited his usage of the derogatory term 'Mudblood.' Something in the way her sapphire eyes looked back at him causes him to give in.
"Fine," Regulus spat begrudgingly.
In truth, seeing her so happy for something as trivial as a name, manages to strike something in him. He tries to tell himself that it's only because he hasn't seen her in a while and her smiles are as sweet and lovely as ever, a large contrast from anyone else around him. They manage to reach her eyes that seem to brighten every time he calls her—
Fuck.
He refuses to be charmed.
When he manages to tear his eyes away from her, he'd like to believe that he mostly succeeded.
.
"You know, I've been wondering…" Amaris snaps him out of his thoughts, and he catches her staring at the note he had slipped into her robes earlier today. "How is your handwriting better than mine?"
Regulus gives her a flat expression, "You called me over just to complain about that?"
"No, not really," she says unconvincingly.
(Well, she wouldn't technically be lying. She also wanted to spend time with him, but she can't just come out and say that, can she?)
Either way, she doesn't miss the way his lips had momentarily quirked up to form a smile at the small compliment.
The girl considers it as another one of her little victories, feeling triumphant more often than not with the way that she had actually succeeded in tearing his walls down.
.
"Anyway…" Amaris continued to ramble on, pulling one of the notes he gave out of her pocket, "Why sign it 'R.A.B.'? What's the point of keeping your identity if you're using your initials? We should have security measures, you know."
"Who do you think you're talking to?" he scoffs, "I'm not thoughtless enough to get caught. If anything, I should be worried about you."
"I'll sign mine with a drawing of the moon. That way, it's foolproof," the Hufflepuff ignores his snarky comment. She looks up to meet his eyes as she suggests, "You should use a lion."
"I'm sticking with my initials."
"You can also draw a star."
"I told you—"
"You can't draw, can you?" Amaris cuts him off, "Ah, that must be it. Blimey, who knew there was something the Regulus Black was bad at?"
"You're insufferable," The Slytherin narrows his grey eyes, albeit they lacked any malice.
"Aha, but you still wanted to be my friend," she grins cheekily. "And so desperately at that."
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" he sighed exasperatedly.
"Hmm…" the blonde hummed, pretending to contemplate the thought. "Considering that it's my greatest achievement of all time, absolutely not."
"You should really find something else to waste all that energy on—"
Once again, unfazed by his crassness, she ignores his words, unwrapping a lemon drop rather loudly as if it were the perfect moment for such. This time, he just knows she must be doing it on purpose.
.
When Amaris looks back at him and catches the irked expression on his face, she chuckles, digging into her pockets to offer another piece of the same candy, "Sherbert Lemon?"
"You're still fond of that rubbish?"
"Regulus—" (Truth to be told, he was also rather fond of how she uttered his name.) "—I told you before. That's not really a decent answer, you know."
"Fine. I'll humor you this one time," he stretches his hand out
"Liar," her sapphire eyes brightened as she pointed out the truth while handing over the lemon drop, "You say that but you always end up indulging me."
Regulus can't really find it in him to refute that. But then again, instead of those yellow candies, it was those bright blue eyes that always seemed to find a way to coerce him into things.
Rather than confirming or denying her words, he averts his eyes away from her as he huffed, "You're getting a little too cocky for your own good, Leclair."
Amaris lets out a laugh at his empty threat.
.
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.
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a/n: formatting is a pain, but anyway, this has been one of my favourite chapters to write. thank you for still sticking around and i would especially like to give my gratitude to those who leave reviews. you don't know how much your responses boost my motivation, so really, thank you so much :')
fun fact: the name "ari" also means "lion"