a/n: for those wondering, updates are weekly, usually on sundays or mondays. not sure how much i can keep it up though.

the ao3 repost of this fic is usually updated first because formatting on this site is frustrating as hell. but anyway, thank you so much for all your support.

five more chapters until act 2!

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QUEEN OF CUPS

upright — compassion, warmth,
kindness, intuition, healer, supportive

reversed — insecurity, giving too
much, fragile, dependence, martyrdom

SEPTEMBER 1975

HAVING KNOWN AMARIS for almost three years, Regulus Black had come to believe that by the time their fourth year came along, nothing else she does can surprise him. He had long observed this anomaly in front of him in a way that would allow him to deduce her actions, but later that day, he realizes…

He was in fact, thoroughly mistaken.

Amaris and Regulus met at the Astronomy Tower at their agreed-upon time. As soon as they did, the boy was rendered utterly speechless, unable to fathom why she had wrapped her arms around him. And yet when he looks at her, she makes it seem like it was merely a natural instinct.

All he managed to take note of was the blood rushing to his face at the sudden contact and, once he managed to regain his composure, how petite her figure actually was.

She's tiny but her heart is more than twice her size and despite her short stature, she hugs him in a way that makes him feel secure.

It's the first time someone had ever embraced him that way —as if they were simply delighted to see him and had longed for his company; as if he mattered— because even if his mother or cousins pull him into one of those for formalities sake, it had always been more stifling than relieving.

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Nevertheless, not accustomed to the sudden gesture, the boy stiffens predictably. He didn't know how to act— didn't know what to do.

Eventually, he contemplates returning the embrace because it was awfully awkward to leave his arms hanging at his sides. But when he finally musters the courage to hug her back, the maiden realizes her little slip-up, meeting his gaze before attempting to step back.

Pure-blood and Muggle-borns couldn't be any more different. She forgot to take into account their pretentious Victorian-style etiquette.

"Oh… Sorry, force of habit. I didn't consider how you might be uncomfortable with—" Amaris mumbles sheepishly, slightly embarrassed by her behavior.

"It's alright," Regulus cuts her off, keeping her steady with one arm.

She looks away, finding difficulty looking him in the eye. The feeling of his arm around her back, be it a half-arsed embrace or whatnot, only manages to aggravate the heat spreading through her cheeks.

The Slytherin clears his throat before attempting to alleviate the awkwardness in the air by assuring her that it truly was alright.

"It's…" he tries to find the right words.

Different. Pleasant. Nice—

"Nice to know that you missed me that much," he settles for the latter, figuring it was the lesser of two evils, maintaining his mask of arrogance as he smoothly finishes with his typical smug smirk.

He really is Sirius Black's little brother.

Their good looks undoubtedly ran in the family; pure-blood genetics and all that bloody crap. But beyond that, they're as cocky as fuck.

"You ruined it," Amaris huffs, feigning indignation by rolling her eyes at him and shoving his shoulder teasingly, finally releasing him from her embrace. His arm falls back casually as she does so, ignoring the slight disappointment from losing the quick comfort derived from physical contact.

The boy fails to notice the tint of red that crept up her cheeks and lit up her ears, though even if he had, the tower had been too dark to tell.

Instead, he laughs.

Softly.

So soft that she almost missed it.

It's more like a chuckle if anything, but she could have sworn it was one of the most beautiful sounds she's ever heard in her life. Although, that may be more of a testament to the value of such a rarity.

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The Hufflepuff shakes the thought off in hopes that by averting the subject, she can ignore the slight constriction in her chest.

Amaris beams brightly at him when she recalls what she had come there for, "I got you something!"

"Again?" he snorts indifferently, yet goes as far as to admit, "There's no use to bribery anymore, Leclair. We're friends. You've already worn me out."

"I have never bribed you," she gasps accusingly before digging into the pocket of her robes. "And don't fret, it isn't something bought this time so you're under no debt or whatever foolish reason you came up with when you were hesitating to accept that fountain pen."

"What is it?"

She pulls out a bundle of letters, held together with a yellow-almost-golden ribbon, "They're my replies to the letters you owled over the summer. Sorry about the ribbon, I wasn't sure if you'd like green or if it's just a Slytherin stereotype so I opted for that one instead—"

"You…" he lets out a deep breath, interrupting her tendency to make up for the silence by rambling.

Amaris smiles a lot softer and perhaps even more affectionate this time. The way her sapphire eyes gazed back at him made it seem as if she was already aware of what he wanted to say, "You only said I couldn't send them, not that I can't write to you back."

"This is…"

He still can't find the right words. Surprised that anyone would go that far despite the lack of commitment— and what more, a lack of obligation?

She absolutely didn't have to, but instead of condemning her actions, he manages to return a thin-lipped smile, hoping to convey his sincerity.

"Thanks, Ari."

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[ August 2, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

Unlike you, you pretentious little git, I have opted to use your nickname because that's what friends do and no matter how much you deny it, we are friends (in case you're forgetting).

I have every right to be proud of such considering how long it took for us to get here. So stop being so formal and quit referring to me by surname (please?). And just so you know, I'd have been happier had you referred to me by that nickname you came up with, but I guess I'll let you off the hook this time.

Who knows? Since it took more than two years to be my friend, if I wait for another two, you might call me such by then.

Instead, I have taken it upon myself to take the first step and do the honors.

I also decided to respond to your letters this way. And I know you won't receive my replies in time but I believed it was better than nothing.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. If you hate Sherbert Lemons so much, would you be open to chocolate peace-offerings? The Muggle world has a greater variety of them and Pandora had told me about their mood-enhancing qualities. A sour grouch like you can surely use it.

[ August 3, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

I'm glad to hear that you're getting along better with your brother nowadays. I know how short-tempered you can be, and while I haven't met him, I'm sure your efforts are bound to pay off eventually.

I hope he'll open his heart to you soon. You deserve to have a good relationship with your brother.

Believe me, it might take a lot of persistence on your part, but with the way I won you over, I've got to say, some things are definitely worth the wait.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. It probably won't mean much to you (after all, it's coming from me) and you might even think I'm patronizing you (I'm not, believe me) but I'm so proud of you for simply trying.

[ August 4, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

You don't know how happy (and a little smug, I'll admit) hearing you take interest in Muggle things makes me.

I'll have you know that our technology is rather advanced. You might find it interesting to hear, considering your interest in Astronomy, that beyond aeroplanes and motorcycles, we also have rockets and satellites.

Did you know that in 1969, the first man had already walked on the moon?

It's interesting facts like these that make you realize how vast the world is, no?

It's almost foolish to think that we, as magical school children, keep dwelling on stupid things like blood status and house rivalry when we're just a speck in a ginormous universe.

Alright, I'll stop rambling now, but before I end this letter, once again, I'd like to express how glad I am to hear you branching out.

I'm a little vexed that your brother has me beat. (How come you listen to him when he talks about Muggle things, but you wouldn't give my suggestions a chance? This is blatant favoritism.) Though, more than anything, I honestly just appreciate how much you've opened your mind to such things.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. There are more injuries to attain in Quidditch compared to any other Muggle sport and as someone whose friends continue to play such, I have every right to worry!

[ August 5, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

To be completely honest, your family intimidates me. Now, I may be the fool who went along with my naive ideologies and persistently tried to befriend you— But, still. That doesn't mean I didn't worry at all.

Did you know, Mary and I have to ask Fabian and Gideon to pass on our letters to her just so that her family doesn't suspect her as a blood traitor?

The Prewetts are a lot more open-minded but in your case and in Dora's, I'm pretty sure that your lives would be easier if you weren't friends with a Muggle-born.

Sorry about that. It's just… Sometimes, I worry I'd get you both into trouble.

Anyway, enough of that… I keep laughing when I picture you in your extravagant aristocrat robes grumbling about the sun and the weather.

Sunshine is good for you, Reg. It'll be nice if you get some. It might warm up your personality (kidding hehe).

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. I asked Pandora to hand you the spell. She didn't want to give it willingly, of course, but I managed to wear her out. I don't think she actually went to your party but she claims to have asked one of her brothers to pass it on. I hope you managed to receive it.

[ August 6, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

Your brother sounds like quite the bad influence, though, I can't say I don't understand. You may be dealing with one Gryffindor but try taking on three.

Fabian and Gideon are rather fond of such schemes, and Mary tends to join the bandwagon, but I try my best to keep them in line. It's a Gryffindor trait I suppose.

Then again, with the rumors in school and everything you told me about him, your brother might be taking mischief to another notch.

Glad to hear you managed to get a breather during that party at least.

Also, Andromeda sounds lovely. It's a shame that you don't get along but it's never too late to change that.

It's not my place to say anything about it so you're obviously not obligated to do anything about it.

I just think you're better off without any regrets. Life is short enough.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. Quit putting yourself down. You're kinder than you think you are.

[ August 8, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

I've actually had an incredibly chaotic and yet, fun summer. I slept over at Mary's house (her family is as boisterous as she is) and we spent the next day playing Quidditch at the Prewetts.

Pandora also dropped by under the pretense that there aren't any Muggle-borns around. Based on the way she spoke of it, her family seemed to have easily bought her excuses. I'm a little worried about her knack for lying, but then again, I know Pandora's always truthful —sometimes even brutally honest— around us.

Speaking of Quidditch, I am absolute shite at flying and most of the time was actually spent having them teach me (it was all for naught). I have a newfound respect for you especially since I can't even begin to fathom how you do this while keeping track of the bloody snitch.

Other than that, I really appreciate the books you're willing to lend but if it's too much trouble, you honestly don't have to.

And I'll also have you know, Divination is worth more than you're giving it credit for! In the first place, Arithmancy is a form of Divination and you know it.

As for your interest in the Dark Arts, I'm not one to tell you off. Xenophilius once told me that people fear the unknown, that it's why they react so violently against it. I believe that such can also be said in this case, and so I'll take your word for it.

I trust you to know what you're doing and besides, so long as you don't fail to see reason and use it against others, I don't exactly see what's the harm in them. Then again, I might not be the best person to ask about it considering my non-existent knowledge of that particular branch of magic.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. Just don't get into anything that might hurt you.

P.P.S. And before you complain, friends are entitled to worry about your well-being.

[ August 14, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

I am rather surprised to hear that your brother has a fiancée. In this century, I can't believe that you pure-bloods still go through such archaic traditions. I mean, this is marriage for Morgana's sake! Can't they at least provide you with the liberty to live your life with someone you love?

Wait. It just came to mind— If your brother has one, does that mean you also have a fiancée?

Gods, if you do, I bloody hope you actually get along and/or have feelings for her. I'm sure your brother's relationship with his is a rarity of sorts, considering that it was orchestrated by your parents. But you deserve to be happy with whomever you choose.

As for your findings regarding voodoo dolls, I find it interesting to know that you've been thinking about using them for other means.

Have you also thought of inverting its purpose, such as using them as means to heal or cure injuries? Or perhaps trying to use them as a means to locate or transport people?

I know it's a little far-fetched, but it is fun to think about.

I'm absolutely clueless about Dark Magic but if you want someone to bore (just kidding), I'm always willing to listen.

Not that it's anything new, Pandora and Xenophilius are impossible to stop when they start rambling about something they fancy hehe.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. While you miss my clumsy antics, I, in turn, miss your usual scowl.

[ August 23, 1975 ]

Dear Reg,

As you know, I was often homesick whenever we were back at Hogwarts.

In the first place, it's why I often visited the Astronomy Tower. Aurora, my sister, told me to look at the moon whenever I'm lonely, and the tower obviously has the best view of the night sky, no?

Regardless, I haven't gone there in a long time for that particular reason.

Merlin knows we don't need anyone else to inflate your ego, but yes, I'll admit, I actually really do like your company.

For once, I'm looking forward to our return to Hogwarts. I find it thoroughly amusing to tease and infuriate you for the next few months as you have often failed to do with me. (Yes, your attempts have not gone unnoticed.)

Then again, by the time you've read this we've already met (otherwise, how else would I hand you these letters?) so I suppose there's no point in writing that I'm looking forward to seeing you.

Speaking of which, I really hope you liked my responses. If not, I at least hope that you find them entertaining enough.

I don't think I ever got to tell you, but thank you for giving me a chance and agreeing to be my friend.

Sincerely, Ari

P.S. If I had a death wish, I would have tried to befriend your entourage, particularly the two who seemed to make it a habit to terrorize us Muggle-borns, and not you.

I know you better by now, Reg. Your bark is worse than your bite. I doubt you're actually capable of hurting me.

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IT WAS ONLY DURING the following night, that Regulus had the chance to read her letters. The girl had claimed that she'd be unable to visit the Astronomy Tower in hopes of turning in early. Their return to Hogwarts, all the unpacking, and the beginning of classes always had a tendency to get overwhelming.

He dared open one envelope, just to see what it was like —just to satiate his growing curiosity— but then one letter turned into two. And two led to three…

And eventually, he just forgoes all his intentions to get ahead on his studies, choosing to spend the night reading what she wrote on the parchment instead.

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Every sentence, every word, every curve of her penmanship reminds him of her and something about it causes an odd sense of comfort to lull over him.

The letters were just so… Her.

She's the only one foolish enough to say that he was kind— the only one foolish enough to actually trust and believe in a snake like him.

He can almost hear her voice as he reads them, picturing the Hufflepuff saying it in person with all her animated gestures, teasing grins, and affectionate smiles.

Amaris even went through with those little drawings of the moon as she had once claimed she'd use.

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They're just letters, he had to remind himself because he was a little too delighted by the mere notion of reading them.

It wasn't like it was the first time he received some. Narcissa and Walburga made a habit out of it, and Rosier and the others tended to do the same during the holidays.

But, when he gets through each and every envelope, it's difficult to suppress the small smile that tugged on the corners of his lips.

He almost forgot that he wasn't the only one in his room.

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Evan Rosier, who had been observing his roommate for a while now, breaks the pleasant silence with a smirk plastered on his face, "Drat. Is the world coming to an end?"

However minuscule it may be, the small smile that glossed over Regulus' face had completely vanished, his usual scowl taking over its place.

"What are you possibly yapping on about this time?"

"You were smiling! Regulus bloody Black was fucking smiling!" Rosier points out exaggeratedly, refusing to let him live it down.

He manages to take note of the stack of envelopes set on top of the silky emerald bed sheets as the said Black laid beside it, going through each one.

"Who could have possibly bestowed such goodness within you?"

Regulus sneers at his fellow Slytherin's dramatics and his nosiness and his… Evan-ness. If that was even a word.

"Sod off, Rosier."

The raven-haired boy reaches out for the wand he set beside his lap ( he had to be ready to transfigure the letters after all) and flicks his roommate's head with a quick swish.

"Rude!" Evan whined, clutching his forehead at the impact that resulted from the sudden gust of wind aimed at him.

Then again, whatever other complaints the other fourth-year Slytherin had, Regulus doesn't bother to hear him out, closing the curtains around his bed to attain some privacy.

He casts a quick Lumos as he goes over the letters once again, eventually losing track of time.