a glimpse of Arctic within his eyes
The Great Hall hummed with its usual midday symphony - the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of goblets, the occasional burst of laughter that echoed off the ancient stone walls. Plates piled high with roast chicken, golden bread rolls, and an array of other options crowded the Slytherin table, though Regulus found his appetite elusive.
He traced idle circles on his plate with a piece of bread, more absorbed in the rhythm of the motion than the food itself. Around him, Barty and Evan filled the silence - or rather, shattered it - with their relentless chatter. Barty, as always, spoke through a mouthful of whatever he was devouring, words muffled by roast chicken and crumbs clinging to the corners of his mouth.
"I'm just saying," Barty declared, pausing only to swallow a far-too-large bite, "summer can't come fast enough. If I have to write one more bloody essay for McGonagall, I might just transfigure myself into a rat and scurry off."
He grinned - a wide, boyish thing, and for a moment, Regulus almost envied how easily Barty could find humor in everything.
Evan smirked, flicking a crumpled piece of parchment across the table.
"You wouldn’t last a day as a rat, Barty. You’d get yourself stepped on."
Barty batted the parchment away with a dramatic flourish, earning a soft chuckle from Evan.
Regulus let their words flow around him, a distant melody to the din of the hall. The scrape of utensils, the bursts of Gryffindor laughter from across the room - all of it blurred at the edges.
Because his mind was elsewhere.
James.
He didn’t want to think about him - didn’t want to recall the brush of James’ hand against his during Charms, the careless ease of his touch, the way his smile had lingered in Regulus’ head long after Flitwick had scolded them both. He didn’t want to acknowledge how James’ presence, so close yet untouchable, made the air feel thinner - too warm, too much.
And yet, there he was.
Uninvited. Unrelenting.
"You're quiet," Barty remarked suddenly, his words half-muffled by a mouthful of bread. He nudged Regulus' arm, a bit too hard.
"Thinking about something?"
Regulus blinked, his fingers curling a fraction tighter around the edge of his plate. "No."
Evan arched a brow, his smirk sharpening into something just shy of teasing.
"You sure about that? You've been torturing that bit of bread for the last ten minutes."
Regulus’ jaw tensed. "I'm just not hungry."
"Suit yourself," Barty muttered, already halfway through another roll.
Before Evan could press the matter, because he always pressed, a soft voice broke through the haze.
"Regulus. Are you coming?"
Pandora Rosier stood at the end of the Slytherin table, a quiet contrast to the surrounding chaos. Her Ravenclaw robes hung loose on her frame, and her pale blonde hair spilled in soft waves over her shoulders. She was a serene sort of presence - unassuming, watchful - and her eyes, as calm as ever, held that unnerving ability to see more than Regulus wished she could.
He exhaled, a slow, measured thing. "Yeah."
Grabbing his bag, he welcomed the excuse to leave.
"See you in hel- I mean, Transfiguration," Barty called after him, earning another soft chuckle from Evan.
The noise of the Great Hall dissolved behind them as Regulus and Pandora walked in step down the corridor, their silence comfortable, familiar. That was the thing Regulus liked most about Pandora - she never felt the need to fill the quiet.
They rounded a corner, the distant clamor of lunch reduced to a dull murmur, and for a moment, Regulus allowed himself to believe he could shake off the weight of James Potter. But Pandora, with her gentle sort of perception, saw through him.
"You seem distracted," she said softly.
Regulus' grip on his bag's strap tightened. "I'm fine."
Pandora tilted her head, her gaze unyielding yet kind.
"Are you?"
He didn’t respond. Didn’t trust himself to. Because his mind was still caught in that brief touch, that fleeting glance - the way James' fingers had brushed his and left a ghost of warmth behind. And no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it was always there - just beneath the surface.
xxx
The Great Hall, bathed now in the soft amber glow of evening - it felt both louder and warmer than it had at lunch. Candles hovered overhead, flickering like suspended stars, and the sky above, charmed to reflect the world outside, rippled with bruised hues of dusk.
Dinner was a more animated affair. The end of the semester loomed like a distant storm cloud, close enough to taste but not yet upon them, and the Slytherin table buzzed with talk of summer plans and the fleeting freedom that came with it.
Regulus, this time, was eating.
Not much - a modest portion of roasted potatoes and a bit of ham, but it was enough for Barty to take notice.
"Oh, so you do remember how to chew," Barty teased, elbowing Regulus in the side with exaggerated delight. His mouth was, as always, half full of food, breadcrumbs dusting the front of his robes. "Thought you'd sworn off eating altogether after that tragic affair with the bread at lunch."
Regulus rolled his eyes but didn't bite back - not sharply, at least. There was a faint tug at the corner of his mouth, a ghost of a smile, and Barty’s eyes lit up like he'd won a prize.
"Careful," Evan drawled from across the table, a smirk dancing at the edges of his lips. "If you keep acting like you're enjoying yourself, Regulus, someone might think you've got a heart after all."
Regulus let out a soft huff - a quiet, almost-laugh - and shook his head.
"Tragic. Truly."
Barty clutched his chest dramatically.
"He lives! He feels!" He threw a piece of bread at Evan, who ducked, and the roll landed unceremoniously on the plate beside them.
It was easy, the banter. Easier than it had been at lunch, at least. The weight in Regulus’ chest wasn’t gone, but it had settled - a distant ache instead of an open wound. He let himself exist in the moment: the playful jab of Barty’s words, the soft clink of goblets against the table, the brush of his sleeve against Evan’s as they leaned into the joke.
Across the hall, just beyond the sea of Gryffindor robes, James Potter was laughing, head thrown back, hair an untamed mess of black, his tie askew like he’d barely bothered with it at all. His hand was curled around a goblet, but Regulus’ gaze, traitorous and unforgiving, wasn’t focused on that.
It was focused on the soft curve of James’ smile.
The way his cheeks dimpled when he laughed.
The careless beauty of it all.
And then - as if the universe were but some cruel, conspiring thing - James looked up, and their eyes met.
James leaned back in his chair slightly, the afternoon light catching the quarter-moon of pale blue in his left iris - a cold, arctic flicker against the warmth of his hazel stare. It was the sort of detail you might miss at a glance, but once you noticed, it was impossible to unsee - like the sky refusing to be just one color.
The smile on his lips softened - just a fraction, like an unspoken acknowledgment, a secret sealed in a single glance. There was no grand gesture, no smirk or dramatic flourish, just a quiet moment suspended between them, delicate and fleeting.
Regulus' heart gave a violent, unforgiving lurch at the dissatisfaction of him noticing such peculiar details about James.
And then, just like that, Regulus ripped his gaze away.
His chest felt too tight. His pulse too loud.
"Earth to Regulus," Barty's voice broke through the spell, a hand waving theatrically in front of his face. "You alright, or did Evan’s devastating wit send you spiraling into another dimension?"
Regulus blinked, the world snapping back into focus, the noise of the Great Hall crashing over him like a wave.
He forced a breath. Forced a smirk.
"Just contemplating the tragedy of your existence, Bee."
Barty gasped, clutching his chest once more. "Rude." But the flicker of concern in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. It was brief, but there.
Regulus ignored it.
Instead, he reached for his goblet, fingers steady even as his heart betrayed him, and took a slow sip, pretending the warmth in his chest wasn’t still burning.
Pretending he hadn’t just drowned in a single glance.