Caterpillars
Pandora pulled into Lily’s driveway, her bag slung over her shoulder. She was running late—not her fault, though. No one had warned her about the accident clogging up the main road.
She’d tried calling Lily a couple of times, but after getting no response, she gave up. They had scheduled another practice last week for tonight, so she was sure Lily wouldn’t have forgotten… hopefully.
At least the lights were on, which meant someone was home. Pandora knocked three times and waited. A blonde girl—one who looked vaguely familiar—opened the door.
“Hi,” the girl said, blinking at Pandora as if she hadn’t expected company.
“Uh, hi,” Pandora echoed. “I’m here for Lily? We have… ballet practice.”
The girl’s gaze flicked down, taking in Pandora’s attire—leggings, a fitted top, nothing fancy, but unmistakably meant for dance.
“Oh! Right.” Her expression brightened. “Come on in. I’m Marlene McKinnon, by the way. Lily’s inside.”
From the living room, Pandora could hear laughter—two voices mixing with the low hum of music. One was unmistakably Lily’s, the other unfamiliar. A small knot of unease formed in Pandora’s stomach.
“Lils, uh, seems like you have a guest,” Marlene announced as they stepped inside.
Lily glanced over her shoulder, and for a split second, Pandora caught the flash of panic in her eyes. She wasn’t even dressed for practice—just jeans and a T-shirt, completely unprepared. Sitting beside her, far too close for Pandora’s liking, was a dark-skinned girl with a hand resting on Lily’s lap.
“Oh my god, Panda!” Lily blurted out, startled. “Shit—sorry, is it Wednesday already?”
“Yeah,” Pandora confirmed, forcing a small smile.
“Bloody hell,” Lily muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I must’ve forgotten. Um—” she hesitated, stumbling over her words. “Oh, fuck, I’m being rude. Please, join us! That’s Marlene,” she said, nodding toward the blonde, “and this is Mary.” She gestured toward the girl beside her.
“Hi, Pandora, is it?” Mary greeted with a warm smile—one that Pandora didn’t like at all.
“From Lily’s ballet?”
Pandora glanced around nervously, setting her bag down on the nearest chair. “Uh, yeah,” she said, her voice measured. “We practice together sometimes.”
“Listen, I can totally kick the girls out,” Lily interrupted, then shot an apologetic look at Marlene and Mary. “No offense. I can’t believe I forgot. Or we can reschedule? I mean—”
“It’s fine,” Pandora cut in, perhaps a little too sharply. “Your guests are already here, no point in throwing them out. Besides, I’m late anyway.”
“What were you guys talking about?” Pandora asked as she settled onto the plush couch.
“Oh, just how Marlene is going to some fancy restaurant with her girlfriend,” Mary said, teasingly.
“Mock all you want, McDonald,” Marlene shot back, pouring herself a mix of vodka and juice. “You’re just jealous because Cas can actually afford places like that.”
“Since when do you care about money?” Mary shot back.
“Um, Cas is your girlfriend?” Pandora asked, latching onto the name.
“Yeah, Dorcas,” Marlene confirmed with a grin. “She’s amazing, you see—wait, hang on. Do I know you from somewhere?”
Pandora stiffened slightly. “Uh, I don’t think so?”
“Aren’t you that girl who was talking to Regulus at that club a couple of months ago?”
And suddenly, it hit Pandora. She had met Dorcas before. And Marlene too. Dorcas had been a guest of her brother’s when they all showed up at Pandora’s apartment. And yes, she remembered Marlene from that night out—though they hadn’t exchanged words, Regulus had pointed them out.
“Well, now that I think about it, yeah, I suppose we did see each other—” Pandora started.
“Regulus? As in Regulus Black?” Lily interrupted.
“Yeah, that bloke,” Pandora confirmed. “Not his brother, no—the pretty one.”
“Regulus isn’t pretty,” Lily blurted out, a little too quickly, a little too defensive.
Mary gave her a look, one eyebrow raised. “Um… what?”
Lily’s cheeks flushed. “No, I mean—” she stammered, scrambling for an explanation. “I’m just saying I don’t think he’s that pretty. I mean, wouldn’t you agree, Panda?”
“I actually think he’s very beautiful.”
“You do?”
“What’s your problem, Evans?” Marlene teased, shaking her head in amusement at how quickly her friend had turned into a flustered mess.
“I’m just saying—” Lily insisted, gesturing wildly as if that would somehow help her argument. “If I had to describe one of the Black brothers as pretty, it would be Sirius, not Regulus.”
“Why? Because he looks more like a girl?”
“What?! No—” Lily sputtered, growing more flustered by the second.
“Are you into girls?” Pandora asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
“No—” Lily started, then immediately backtracked. “I mean, yes! Um, I mean… one time I was into guys, but now—well…” She trailed off, her words tumbling over each other as she desperately tried to recover. Her friends were barely holding back their laughter. “I just think guys can be attractive to a certain degree, but—um, well, girls are—and the point is—”
“She’s into girls,” Marlene concluded, smirking as she took a sip of her drink.
Lily swallowed, offering Pandora a nervous, fleeting smile.
Pandora didn’t catch it, too distracted by the way Mary’s hand idly traced patterns over Lily’s lap. Were they together? Surely Lily would have mentioned if she had a girlfriend… right?
Wait—why did she care?
“Pandora?” someone called, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Huh?” she blinked, refocusing.
“I was just asking if you were seeing anyone,” Mary repeated, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“Yeah, are you?” Lily asked, her tone light, but there was something else beneath it—something Pandora couldn’t quite place.
“Um, well… not at the moment, no,” Pandora admitted.
She didn’t miss the way Lily visibly relaxed at her response, though she couldn’t quite understand why—especially when Mary’s hand was still resting on her lap.
“Mind if I ask what your preference is?” Marlene inquired with a teasing smirk.
“Marls! You can’t just ask that!” Lily gasped, her jaw dropping slightly. But then, after a brief pause, she added, “But, well… I mean—do you have a preference?”
Pandora chuckled, shaking her head. “I just like who I like.”
“Not Regulus, though?” Lily pressed, her tone just a little too casual.
Geez, what was her deal with Regulus? Was she—wait—was she jealous?
Pandora hesitated for a second before responding. “Um, well,” she started, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t really know him well enough to like him, so… I guess not.”
"Hm, I see."
Mary leaned in, whispering something into Lily’s ear that made her roll her eyes. A laugh bubbled past Lily’s lips before she playfully shoved Mary’s shoulder.
Could these two get any more touchy?
Pandora felt an odd, uncomfortable tightness in her chest. It crept up slowly, twisting into something sharp and unfamiliar, making her features harden and her scowl deepen as her gaze locked onto Mary. There was a flicker of loathing bubbling beneath the surface—but why? She had only just met Mary, and apart from the fact that she was practically draped over Lily, she seemed like a perfectly decent human being. So why did Pandora feel this way?
Lily caught Pandora staring at Mary, and a strange knot formed in her stomach. She hadn’t seen Mary in a while, not since they broke up a few months ago, but they had been friends long before they had been anything else. Lily had convinced herself that their friendship was worth salvaging, that she couldn’t throw away years of history just because their relationship hadn’t worked out.
And yet, for some reason, she shifted abruptly, standing up and moving to sit beside Pandora instead. She told herself it was only to make her feel more welcome—especially after the guilt of forgetting their practice session. Nothing more to it.
“So, um, Panda—” Lily started, fumbling for something to say, anything to fill the sudden tension in the room. Then, like a lightbulb flickering to life, she found it. “Did you see there’s a new girl in the ballet academy?”
“Yeah, I think I saw her in last week’s lesson,” Pandora replied, biting her lip in pure concentration as if trying to recall. “Sybill? That was her name, I think.”
“She's pretty good, a bit chaotic when practice finishes but good.”
“Hm, think we might have some competition?” Pandora teased, tilting her head with a sly grin.
Lily met her gaze, amusement flickering in her eyes, laced with a challenge. “The only competition here is you.”
The hours slipped by, and the drinks kept flowing. Pandora knew she should have left—it was getting ridiculously late—but something kept her rooted to the spot. Not yet. Not until Mary Macdonald was out of the house, far away from Lily.
The room swayed around her, blurring at the edges as Marlene and Mary finally said their goodbyes. Lily was just as far gone, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her eyes heavy-lidded, glazed with the warmth of alcohol. She drifted down onto the couch beside Pandora, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
Pandora hadn’t moved in hours, sitting in the same place she had since the night began, absently nodding her head to the music. But Lily’s attention had settled on her now, gaze lingering in a way she hadn't allowed herself before.
Pandora was beautiful—Lily had known that since the first time she set foot in the ballet academy. And not just any kind of beautiful, but the kind that made people take a second glance. The kind that belonged on stage, in portraits, immortalized in art. She was the embodiment of ballet itself—regal, poised, with that angelic presence that seemed almost otherworldly. French, blonde, crystal-blue eyes—she looked like something out of a dream.
Lily had never concerned herself too much with beauty. In ballet, talent mattered more than appearance; grace and strength would take you further than a pretty face ever could. And it would have been easy—almost comforting—to dismiss Pandora as just that: another impossibly gorgeous girl skating by on looks. But she wasn’t.
She was disciplined. She was sharp, competitive. She was kind-hearted and playful yet unwavering in her ambition. She was so many things at once that Lily could hardly wrap her head around the fact that, for years, they had only ever been rivals—two forces constantly pushing against each other, never pausing long enough to engage as anything more than competitors.
And now, with the night stretching on, the space between them narrowing, Lily found herself wondering why.
“You know, your laugh is kind of like a squeal,” Lily blurted out, completely out of the blue. “Like—like a little mouse.”
That earned her another burst of laughter from Pandora, a melodic sound that only proved Lily’s point. “You’re comparing me to a mouse? Très belle, truly.”
“No, I mean—” Lily tried to clarify, but the alcohol made her thoughts slippery, her words even more so. “Like, mice are good! Like in The Nutcracker. I think we’ve all been bloody mice in ballet at some point in our lives.”
“Don’t remind me,” Pandora groaned, waving a dismissive hand. “That was my first role ever. Back in France. Scared the hell out of me.”
Lily blinked. “You were nervous?”
“No, no,” Pandora corrected, shaking her head. “Just—the costumes. They were horrid. Thought my dance partners were going to eat me alive.”
Lily hummed, gaze hazy, half-lidded. “I could eat you.”
Silence.
“What?” Pandora asked, eyebrows shooting up.
“What?” Lily repeated, eyes wide. Then, realization hit her like a freight train. “Did I just say that out loud?”
Pandora burst into laughter, shaking her head. “Evans, how wasted are you?” she teased, though there was a slight edge to her voice—like she was trying to brush off the moment.
Why was her stomach suddenly twisting? It was just the alcohol talking. Right?
Not that she wouldn’t be down for it, if she was being honest. Lily Evans was gorgeous—really gorgeous. Pandora had always known that, but these past few months had made it impossible to ignore. Late-night ballet practices, just the two of them, bodies moving in sync, breath mingling in the quiet studio… It could get kind of intimate.
But that was just the heat of the moment.
Right?
“Bloody hell,” Lily groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. That was so embarrassing.”
Pandora suddenly stood up, crossing the short distance between them before gently prying Lily’s hands away from her face. “No, don’t be,” she reassured, still laughing. “I just—well… it’s all good.”
But before she could finish, she stumbled, her balance faltering.
With a startled gasp, Pandora tumbled forward—right into Lily’s lap.
Lily’s hands instinctively caught her by the shoulders, steadying her. “Woah, you alright?” she asked, blinking down at the blonde sprawled against her.
Pandora gave a slow, lazy nod, her crystal-blue eyes slightly unfocused. “Mmhmm,” she hummed, though the way her fingers curled against Lily’s knee suggested otherwise.
Lily reached out instinctively, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Pandora’s ear with a touch so light it barely registered. But the moment her fingers brushed against her skin, a sharp awareness crackled between them. The silence that followed was thick, heavy with something unspoken.
Lily's stomach twisted as realization set in. What did I just do? Her hand dropped back to her side, and before she could stop herself, words started tumbling out in a rush.
“I—I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” she stammered, her voice uneven. “I shouldn’t have, I mean—there’s nothing wrong with it, but I just—”
And then Pandora was kissing her.
Pandora. Was. Kissing. Her.
Lily barely had time to process the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the way everything seemed to tilt slightly out of balance—
And then, just as quickly as it happened, Pandora pulled away. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed, and she looked utterly horrified with herself.
“I’m sorry,” Pandora blurted, taking a step back. “I—God, I shouldn’t have— I should go.”
She turned, ready to flee, but Lily moved without thinking, catching her wrist, pulling her back.
Then she kissed her.
Properly, this time.
Her hands cupped Pandora’s face, fingers threading into her hair, holding her there—not to trap her, not to force anything, but to make sure she knew. To make sure she stayed.
“Stay,” Lily whispered between kisses, her voice barely more than breath.
And this time, Pandora didn’t run.
*******
“You know, you’re awfully pretty when you’re about to fall asleep,” Barty murmured, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over Evan’s cheek.
Barty didn’t know what was happening, but something about watching Evan Rosier drift off to sleep made his chest tighten. He had spent the entire week tangled in restless thoughts of Regulus, fully aware that he was chasing after Potter—but Evan had been occupying his mind just as much.
They’d been together every night since the race, ever since Barty had practically kidnapped him, speeding away from the cops like they were untouchable. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, and he still didn’t fully understand it now. But somehow, being with Evan made him forget. Made him forget about Regulus, about the ache in his chest, about the way it burned to know that he wasn’t the one being pursued.
With Evan, it didn’t matter.
And that unsettled him more than anything.
He had sworn to himself that he would never feel for anyone else again. Feelings were reserved for Regulus Black—only for Regulus. But then Evan had shown up with a damn caterpillar, of all things, and—how the hell had he even known that?
Before Barty could stop himself, he had kissed him. Right there, desperate and needy in a way he had never been before. He had stripped Evan bare, not just to claim him but to keep him—to hold him afterward, as if that would somehow make sense of the chaos in his chest.
Evan Rosier was something special, something precious. Barty´s head was a complete mess…a full on mess. What if he wanted to keep Evan forever? What then?
Evan, already halfway to sleep, let a small smile tug at his lips. “You think?”
“Mhm,” Barty hummed, his touch featherlight. “You know what they say… you look even prettier with your mouth shut.”
And just like that, the moment shattered. Evan groaned, shoving Barty’s hand away. “You just had to ruin it.”
That woke him up completely. Not that it mattered—sleep had been a distant thing these past few days. No matter how exhausted he was, his mind kept drifting back to Regulus.
The mess of the race had happened three days ago, yet Evan still couldn’t shake the image of Regulus’ name flashing across his phone screen that night. Surprisingly, Regulus had called him instead of Barty when James Potter had left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. Evan hadn’t questioned it at the time—just grabbed his keys and left—but now, in hindsight, he was starting to understand why Barty loathed James so much.
Regulus had been oddly quiet when Evan picked him up, his voice raw when he finally admitted that he didn’t want to call Barty—not this time. Said it was his own fault, that Barty already hated James enough as it was, and that he didn’t want to make it worse. So, he had turned to Evan instead, asking him to be discreet, to not make a big deal of it. Evan had agreed, making up some excuse before slipping out to find him.
When he arrived at the given address, Regulus was standing on the curb, arms wrapped around himself, shivering. His skin was paler than usual, his eyes bloodshot—clearly from crying—and his arms… they looked thinner, somehow. Frail.
Evan had never seen Regulus worn down before, and this was different. This wasn’t exhaustion. This wasn’t frustration.
This was fear.
Not fear of being alone—Evan didn’t think that had ever scared Regulus.
But fear of being abandoned?
Yeah. Maybe that was it.
“You wanna talk about it?” Evan asked once they were safely back in his car, the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence between them.
Regulus didn’t answer right away. His lips pressed into a thin line, twitching slightly to the side like he was already regretting every choice that had led him here. Then, finally, he exhaled sharply. “You’re probably gonna think I’m stupid…”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will,” Regulus muttered, his fingers curling into the sleeves of his jacket. “What I did was pretty pathetic.”
Evan scoffed. “So? I’m literally falling for the guy who’s in love with you—can’t get much lower than that.”
Regulus let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “He’s not in love with me.”
“Hm,” Evan hummed, unconvinced. “Sure he isn’t.” He shot Regulus a pointed glance before shifting in his seat. “Now, what happened?”
“I got pretty hammered,” Regulus admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. “You were too busy watching the race to notice, but James and I… we had a fight. My fault. And now he wasn’t talking to me—wasn’t even looking at me.” His voice wavered slightly, like the words physically hurt to say.
Evan didn’t interrupt, just waited.
Regulus let out a breathy, bitter laugh. “And you know, why would I even want a git like him to look at me? Bloody wanker, he is. But still…” His gaze flickered to the window, lost somewhere in the blurred city lights. “I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. So, I just—I kissed him.” He swallowed hard. “We got real close, and he looked like he was hurting, like really hurting, and I just—I wanted to undo all of it. Undo every bit of harm I ever did to him. So, I kissed him. And he shoved me away.”
Regulus’ fingers tightened around the fabric of his sleeve. “And then the cops came. My brother crashed. And somehow, fuck, I ended up in a car with him.”
Evan hummed, watching him carefully. “I saw him grab you,” he said after a pause. “He must care about you—even if he’s mad.”
Regulus let out a laugh—cold, lifeless. “The only person he’s ever cared about is my brother.”
“I don’t know, Black,” Evan mused. “From what Barty’s told me, that noob has been down your throat trying to win you over ever since he got back to London.”
Regulus’ brows twitched, his eyes widening slightly. “Barty told you that?”
“Yeah, drives me half-nuts,” Evan chuckled. “I have to listen to all your bloody gossip. He’s like, ‘And Potter did this—’‘And then he did that—’‘Blah, blah, blah.’ It’s a bit annoying, listening to Barty get jealous over the guy who clearly wants you.”
Regulus swallowed, his fingers drumming against his knee. “When did he first tell you about it?”
Evan smirked, tilting his head back against the seat. “The night we shagged for the first time.”
“Oh.”
“You do know he only shagged me because you kissed Potter, right?” Evan added casually. “That night you went out with Dorcas to some club—”
“It wasn’t like that—” Regulus interrupted, his voice sharp.
“So you didn’t kiss Potter back?” Evan challenged, arching a brow.
Regulus opened his mouth, then shut it, frustration flickering across his face. “No, I mean—yes—” he exhaled, exasperated. “But I’m talking about Barty only shagging you to get back at me… it wasn’t like that.”
Evan gave him a look, unimpressed. “Sure, Black. Everything Barty does is to get your attention.”
“You’re gonna cry about it?” Regulus teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Evan scoffed, shaking his head. “No,” he said, his voice eerily detached. “I’ve dealt with people like him before. So… if he wants you, then be my guest.”
Regulus felt a flicker of irritation crawl up his chest. It clearly did bother Evan—what Regulus had with Barty. But Evan didn’t understand. Before anything else, they had been friends. Regulus knew Barty inside and out, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was this: whatever Barty did with Evan Rosier, he did not do it while thinking of Regulus.
“He likes caterpillars, you know…” Regulus said out of the blue.
Evan blinked. “What?”
Regulus knew he was giving himself away—practically handing over the winning route to Barty’s heart to none other than his competition. But the truth was, Barty would never be his. It had been years since Regulus had confessed, and he’d foolishly believed that, with time, Barty might come to want him too. But it never happened. Nothing ever changed.
James Potter, though… he was here. He wanted Regulus. That arrogant bastard didn’t deserve it, sure—but still… this time, Regulus had screwed up. And now, more than anything, he wanted James' eyes on him again.
What a cruel irony. Was he the one chasing now?
He needed to set things right with James. Because Regulus had been lying to himself—had spent months burying whatever he felt, staring into the mirror and insisting that he did not want James Potter.
But now that James wasn’t talking to him… now that he didn’t want him…
It was crystal clear just how much Regulus did.
And if he truly wanted James—if he was going to be with him—it was only fair to let go of Barty.
For everyone’s sake.
“He believes butterflies are the only aspect in our world where reality meets fantasy-” Regulus continued, his voice quieter now, as if speaking the thought aloud made it more fragile. “How come such beautiful creatures roam around this godforsaken world? He doesn't get it. So whenever the process of metamorphosis takes place, he feels as though there is hope.”
Evan frowned slightly. “Hope for what?”
Regulus' gaze drifted, lost in thought. “For anything.”
Now, Evan found himself lying on Barty’s bed, staring at the caterpillar nestled in a glass box by the window. It twitched slightly, inching along a leaf, oblivious to everything beyond its tiny world.
Regulus had been relentless all week, trying—and failing—to get James Potter to talk to him. Neither he nor Barty had seen much of Regulus lately, but they knew he was alive, at least. That was something.
As for Sirius Black… there was still no news on his whereabouts.