A/N: Not JKR. Bummer, man.
October 11th, 1978
A few weeks have passed since Frint revealed to me just how deeply involved so many of the Slytherins are in this Voldemort business. As a side-note, let me just say that the whole You-Know-Who/ He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named nonsense seriously pisses me off. I mean, come on! Nothing screams weakness more than an inability to address an enemy by his actual name.
Not that Voldemort must be this fellow's actual name, or anything…I wonder what it really is? Probably something mundane, like Arnold. Or Roy. Or Walter. Beware of Walter Jones! Now there's a name to inspire fear in the hearts of the meek. I'm quaking in my boots just thinking about it (bet Ella would be proper scared, though…I should really be kinder to her, shouldn't I? Ah, well).
Pollux surprised me the other day. We were up at the Astronomy Tower filling out our star charts, having a bit of a snog, you know, doing the things teen witches and wizards do, and suddenly he pulled this thin silver chain out of his pocket and slipped it into my hand. It was very fine, and on it hung a thin silver oval on which the rune for 'zero' was imprinted. In Ancient Runes, one of the first set of runes you learn are the numbers 0-9. The symbol for zero is the head of a demiguise, a creature whose ability to make itself invisible makes it an apt representative.
"It's because there's more to you than meets the eye, even though you'd have us all believe that wasn't true," Pollux said quietly. To be honest, I was quite taken aback. Neither Pollux nor I are particularly given to such demonstrations of affection, so they occur rarely, if at all. Such a thoughtful, touching gesture caught me off guard. I smoothed my thumb over the charm and handed it back to Pollux, holding my hair out of the way so that he could fasten it around my neck.
His movements were sure—there was an air of certainty about everything that Pollux did, and this was no exception. I've always loved how sure of himself he is—it's one of the reasons I'm most drawn to him—in fact, I'm usually drawn to people with high opinions of themselves…sometimes I think that there's nothing more attractive than confidence. Say what you will, but I hold the ego in high esteem. If Pollux wants something, he reaches out and takes it. But occasionally such certainty throws me off—makes me doubt him, even. At the very least, it puts me always on guard, for when you can't sense any kind of vulnerability in another person, you don't want to display any yourself.
But at times like these, Pollux's calm, matter-of-fact manner is comforting, because it adds a measure of familiarity to an unfamiliar situation. Such as this unexpected display of care. Once he'd fastened the clasp, I turned my head to look at him. I suppose he must have read the question in my eyes.
"I know we don't usually do things like this," he said, mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile. "But Phae—I just felt that I needed to make sure you knew that you really are an extraordinary person. I know it doesn't bother you anymore, the way everyone simply dismisses you because of what your parents did—which, by the way, is complete shit, but that's old news—but I wanted to tell you how much I admire your strength." He grinned, wrinkling his nose at the uncharacteristically sappy statement, but his eyes were still serious, peering out at me from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "Actually taking the time to get to know you might've been the greatest choice I ever made at Hogwarts."
I was unsure of what to say, so I swallowed my confusion and surprise and smiled, leaning in to give Pollux a long, lingering kiss. As I was pulling away, he took my face in his hands and stared at me. "I love you, Phae," he said firmly, and pressed his lips to mine lightly.
"I love you, too," I replied. It wasn't the first time we'd exchanged the weighted words—that had been towards the end of school last year, on the night we'd first slept together. But we weren't as free with the declaration as most couples are. It's not something I ever questioned; I preferred our way—the words seemed to mean more when they were so infrequent. Our usually casual treatment of our relationship made moments like this all the more precious, and I treasured them (you may be laboring under the impression that I'm a cold, emotionless bitch—which is often the case—but I am in fact more than capable of love. I'm not immune to affectionate expressions or touches, you know…I am a teenage girl).
So yes. That night threw me off a bit…in a good way, though. A very good way.
Anyway, if you'd like to know what I'll be doing this evening, the answer is serving detention with Professor Figwort. I may have accidentally thrown a Snargaluff pod at Selma Frint in our N.E.W.T. Herbology lesson yesterday. It's not like I was aiming for her, or anything. It just sort of slipped from my hand and happened to soar through the air to hit her in the side of the head. Purely coincidental. The mess went well with her black hair and black heart, though, I must say.
Frint got a detention too, though, because by the time Figwort realized what was happening Selma had whirled around and cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx on me. I wish I could express to you the exact shade of crimson her face had turned in rage; it was quite impressive. So Figwort told us both to meet him in Greenhouse Three tonight at eight. I'm just going to slide right on by the fact that Frint used a hex on me that the rest of us stopped using in second year. I mean, Jelly-Legs? Really? Right, sliding on by…
I showed up at the greenhouse a few minutes early, before even Figwort had gotten there. I waited outside in the chill October air and tried to think of ways that I could mess with Selma during our detention. Perhaps I could use my wand to, ah…guide the Venemous Tentacula her way? Or maybe I could set off a Mimbulus Mimbletonia when she's standing nearby. Merlin, those plants are foul. Stinksap is not a substance you want to be coated in, let me tell you. I know from a wealth of experience at the hands of one Bellatrix Black. Merlin, I hate that witch.
Frint showed up a couple minutes later, and I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but Regulus was with her, walking her down to the greenhouses. I guess it makes sense, their being together, seeing how they're both attractive but vile people. Selma's quite good-looking, actually—she's got long, wavy black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. Her looks remind me a bit of my mother's, actually. That's probably why I hated her from the start. They'd probably get along well. I'm sure Frint would be quite popular with more than just the Slytherins if she wasn't such a loathsome individual.
Regulus gave me one of his signature sneers as they walked up.
"Lovely to see you too, Regulus, as ever," I drawled as they stopped in front of me. "Decide to join our party?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he scoffed.
"Not particularly, no."
He glared at me. "Fuck off, Aldebaran."
I rolled my eyes at that. He's original, that one. "Thanks, but I think I'll stay. Got a detention and all." I know I should've held my tongue, but I couldn't keep the next words from tumbling out of my mouth: "In other news, I hear you're about to be a member of a pretty elite group."
His eyebrows shot up. "What?" He asked incredulously.
"You heard me, Black." Bringing this up was probably unwise. If Regulus Black really was as close to becoming a Death Eater—as close to the Dark Lord—as Frint had said, I might soon be very much regretting opening my mouth about this.
Now Regulus was really glaring at me. Frint stood beside him, dithering about, her eyes wide, being useless as always. She may be pretty but she's really quite dim. "What are you talking about, Aldebaran?" She asked.
I do love Veritaserum. The fact that the person under its influence has no recollection of spilling the beans is one of the greatest things about it.
"Oh, you know, just the part where Reggie here and all his lovely friends are about to join Lord Voldy's club," I said casually. "Must be fun, getting to dress up in masks whenever you please. How many muggles do you have to kill to join, Black? I must say, I didn't have you pegged for the killing type. More of a torture-and-torment type, for sure." With every word, Frint's look of disbelief deepened and Regulus looked at me more menacingly.
"Where did you hear that? You have no idea what you're talking about," he seethed. Which was definitely true, I must confess. I hadn't the slightest clue what his world was like anymore. Only that he was an idiot for choosing it when he could've turned his back on the lot of them like Sirius.
I just shrugged. "I just hope you know what you're getting into, Regulus," I told him, surprising even myself with my sincerity. When was the last time I had felt any kind of concern for Regulus Black? When was the last time I had felt anything for him besides utter detestation? About six years, I suppose.
He frowned deeply and opened his mouth to say something when Professor Figwort bustled up to us. "Oh, good, you're already here," the short, stout wizard said, slightly out of breath. He looked at Regulus curiously. "I don't recall issuing you a detention, Mr. Black," he said.
Regulus turned to him, dismissing me. "No, Professor, I was only walking Selma down, wanted to make sure she got here alright." Professor Figwort nodded and entered the greenhouse. Selma kissed Regulus on the cheek and he turned swiftly, not looking at me, and set off back towards the castle.
The Herbology professor set us to pruning his Devil's Snare plants, which require quite a lot of concentration in order to avoid strangulation, so my hopes of messing with Selma had to be set aside for the time being. I had enough on my mind, anyway, my head full of the odd exchange with Black, despite my best efforts to think of other things.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review! And for those of you who read ET, I haven't abandoned it, promise, I've just been in a bit of a writing rut. Things are looking up, though!