A Promise

Regulus was absolutely sure he was too dressed up as Barty, who had convinced him to go in the first place, the bastard, led them down the eastern corridors of the fifth floor. Or really, Barty had convinced Evan, who always embarrassingly melted to putty in his hands if Barty tried enough. Then there was Dorcas left. If everyone else went out, she was the one to stay in the common room with Regulus and bask in the comfortability of not having to socialise or make meaningless small-talk with people they would rather not be around. Very unfortunately for Regulus, Dorcas had betrayed him. She had made the argument that it was hallowe’en but Regulus was suspicious.

Pandora stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase to Ravenclaw Tower, in a glittery midnight blue dress and bronze earring dangling from her ears that matched her house colours.

“Barty, how did you coerce Regulus to join us?” She immediately flitted to his side and slid her arm through his own. He didn’t flinch away from her as he usually did when anyone touched him, but Pandora’s heart was like warm air and her being was secure. She was the only person who could be called, in his mind, infinitely innocent and of pure intentions.

“Was only a matter of time,” Barty said, absentmindedly, leading the group as they climbed the staircase, “He’s one of us party-goers, really.” To which Regulus rolled his eyes.

“It was all me,” Dorcas piped up, cheerfully.

The eagle with Rowena’s melodic voice gave them the riddle at the top of the winding staircase, ‘If you don’t keep me close, I’ll break,’ and they all turned to Pandora, who scoffed lightly,

“A promise,”

Regulus became increasingly anxious when the door swung open into quite literally a sea of students in the usually grand Ravenclaw common room. By then, some people had gathered on the landing behind them and they pushed their way into the room.

The navy curtains were pulled back to reveal the tower’s floor length windows looking down to the pitch black grounds, the ceilings were stained glass and high with students leaning against the library balcony, in the middle of the large room was a table already laden with spilled drinks and firewhiskey bottles, there was a kerfuffle in the corner where it seemed as if a Prefect was barring two or three Gryffindor students from accessing the Ravenclaw dormitories. Most looked to be fourth year or older, but here and there were younger stragglers looking nervous and out of place.

“Firewhiskeys?” Barty pointed at them and shuffled his way over to the table when he got a chorus of affirmations. Of course, he was waylaid multiple times by people he knew and flirted relentlessly with, before he eventually made his way back to the little group. By then they were tucked in a corner where Evan and Dorcas had found a couch and Regulus was more than happy to sit down.

Regulus took a swig of the bottle of firewhiskey shoved into his hands and almost coughed as it seared down his throat. Other than glasses of wine at family meals he wasn’t a regular drinker. He’d only been pissed twice in the comfort of the dorms with Evan and Barty and, anyway, he didn’t plan on drinking much that night.

The first half hour was somewhat bearable, talking in their corner. When Regulus was half finished with his firewhiskey, Barty clapped his hands together and stood up from where he had been perched on the arm of the couch beside Evan.

“Witches and wizards, it is time for some real music,” he backed into the crowd to find the record player which had been playing classical music, “I expect you to get up and dance, especially you, Reg.” Regulus sunk lower into the couch. Why must Barty be that way?

Students filtered in, greeting people, laden with more drinks and food. It seemed like a surprising amount of people, but then again so many in a space only supposed to contain barely one fourth of the population of the school, would.

It wasn’t until Regulus heard a terribly familiar voice that he paid any attention to the rest of the common room,

“Hog’s Head mead, anyone?” Sirius called, bounding in, his arms full of dusty cases of mead. A small cheer rose up from some of the mingling guests. Sirius was flanked by six other Gryffindors, the one he called Moony, the small blonde one, the red-head, the one who was never seen without red lipstick, the Quidditch girl, and James. James. Regulus knew James. He was the one who had stolen his brother. Sirius hadn’t become so distant in the first place until a best friend started being mentioned. If you asked Regulus, he had gotten the ball rolling.

Regulus was so startled by this sudden entry that he almost didn’t notice Dorcas shift and fix her hair to his left. But, as it happens, he did. Pandora’s eyes trailed over from Dorcas to the Gryffindors and lifted her hand as if to beckon them over,

“You lot–!” she started before Regulus swiftly covered her mouth and Dorcas snapped her hand down in a second. It was too late and most of their heads had turned to the corner.

“Bloody great,” Regulus groaned, sarcastically, “Really brilliant, thanks, Pandora.”

“You don’t have to speak to him but I want the McKinnon girl over here,” Pandora smiled apologetically.

“Why? Why would you do this to me?” Dorcas hissed, as McKinnon and the two other girls made their slow way over through the crowd. Pandora just grinned conspiratorially. Regulus thought people often underestimated her.

When McKinnon finally approached, with a smile that looked more like a grimace, she waved. Dorcas did not wave back but glued her eyes to the ground determinedly. Regulus stayed seated, hand mindlessly covering half his face in an unconscious motion to hide himself from the girls closest to his brother. The two other girls stood slightly behind McKinnon, linking arms with mildly interested expressions.

“Nice time?” the red-head asked politely, sticking her hand out to be shaken by Pandora, who probably seemed like the safest to interact with, “Lily Evans, we’ve had classes together. You’re in our year?” Pandora took the offered hand,

“Pandora. Yes, we’re in sixth year,” she gestured to herself and Dorcas, “The boys aren’t.”

“You know Mary MacDonald and… Marlene McKinnon,” Lily Evans gestured at them when they said nothing, then she glanced expectantly at the others on the couch. Pandora elbowed Regulus and he eyed her incredulously.

“Regulus,” he muttered, “...Black.” Sirius caught his eye across the room, juggling stray bottle caps and flinging them at James. What idiots.

Evans nodded.

“Evan Rosier,” Evan flung his hand up lazily past his short hair.

“Dorcas Meadowes,” Dorcas said, very grudgingly.

“Well!” Pandora clapped her hands to her thighs, unnervingly chipper, “Now that official introductions are out of the way…” she grabbed Regulus’s hand and tugged him off of the couch, “You two can chat.” Evan was easily led along by the collar of his shirt, and Evans and MacDonald followed sporting wide grins.

Regulus felt out in the open and too vulnerable away from the corner. Obviously the party was poorly planned, he could barely put his hands on his hips without his elbow jutting into someone’s side. He didn’t like it.

“Where the bloody hell is Barty?” Evan asked, searching over the heads of people.

“Already somewhere shagging someone, I presume,” Regulus said dryly. Evan huffed, looking actually bothered, so Regulus shut up.

Moving further into the middle of the room, purposely avoiding where Sirius was trying (and failing) to dance to the blaring wizarding metal band Barty had put on. Then he shook his head and pushed his way toward the record player and large decades old speakers, to undoubtedly change the music. Regulus wouldn’t have minded a change of music, but had liked the classical music that had been playing before and was sure he wouldn’t care for anything Sirius ended up putting on. Sure enough, with a short silence and crackle, drums started up in a jazzy rock blast of noise. Sirius and James spun each other around, students naturally separating out of the way as they moved. Regulus had to look away, realising how happy Sirius seemed. He had never seen him that happy at home, never with him. Had Regulus done something wrong? Did Sirius wish James was his brother instead? Every time that jolt of realisation hit Regulus, he curled in on himself and ignored the world, savouring the sensation of a punch in the gut. Instead, he abandoned the suddenly empty bottle of firewhiskey and took another one.

Evan had found Barty across the room smoking. Regulus didn’t feel like weed just then and neither did Pandora, who still had his hand in hers.

“C’mon, dance with me,” she said, squeezing his hand, “It’s what Barty said he wanted.”

“I pride myself on doing the exact opposite of whatever Barty Crouch says,” Regulus said, knowing he would do it. Pandora winked at him then took his other hand, swaying back and forth. As Roger Daltrey shouted away and The Who all but gave their instruments a rest, Regulus shook his head and stepped side to side in half-commitment.

A tiny voice in Regulus’s head shouted that he was pissed. The voice sounded so hilariously small and high that he couldn’t actually take it seriously. The only proof that it was telling the truth, was the bitter-sweet taste in his mouth and his head resting against the window pane without knowing how he had reached that position. The cold felt wonderful on his very warm forehead. Regulus was alone. Pandora had gone somewhere with that strange blonde Ravenclaw and he couldn’t remember where Evan had run off to. He could hear the loud music and chatter thumping through his bones and feel people bustling around him. It was not even close to the end of the night, more like barely the start. Oh, how embarrassing if he really was drunk.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” someone said from just behind his left ear, and Regulus glanced down to where he felt a sort of dampness. The small bit left of his second bottle of firewhiskey was on his robes. Whoever it was, had just spilled the drink on him. He looked up, expecting himself to snap but was taken aback when he saw them. James. He was carrying an almost empty bottle of mead and searching Regulus’s face apologetically.

“I’m– Wait, you’re Regulus,” James’s face grew confused as if every thought had left his mind, if he even had any in the first place, “Sirius’s little brother.” Regulus rolled his eyes and scoffed at the mention of Sirius.

“Erm… Can I get you a drink or something? Only to make up for the one I spilled,” James grimaced, the change of expression somewhat sudden. Regulus thought about it. He really did feel like another drink.

“If you bring it here,” he said, “I don’t want to go back out,” he waved a hand near the middle of the room, “...there, again.”

“Alright then,” James stepped away and started walking backward, “I have to go talk to S– Yeah. I’ll be back… Stay right there.”

Regulus put his hand up to feel where the cool glass of the window had been pressed against his head. He wanted to sit down until his drink was brought to him but there was nowhere to sit within a three metre radius. Multiple people bumping into him in the span of thirty seconds was his final straw, so he opened a heavy blue hanging curtain to a smaller room with, thankfully, less people. Then he collapsed onto an armchair and waited.

After an unknown amount of time Regulus spent studying a portrait of some old wizard with a beard staring into his soul, James poked his head in.

“There you are,” he pushed in carrying two full goblets of something. He didn’t get upset at Regulus for moving and being forced to search for him, only sat down on the coffee table and held out the drink. Regulus took it,

“What is this?” he asked, suspiciously.

“Watered down firewhiskey,” James answered, “We’re sharing the bottle.”

“How do I know you aren’t drugging me?” Regulus asked bluntly. James reeled back, having to think quickly so as to not drop both drinks,

“Do you really think I would do that?”

“Well, I don’t know you,” Regulus said, taking the drink, “You could be a murderer or a rapist for all I know.” Then he took a swift swig of the firewhiskey which, with some water, was actually not bad. James’s eyes sprung wide in a cartoon-like manner.

“A ra– excuse me, what?!” he stammered, and Regulus simply leaned back on the arm of the chair and swung his legs over the other one, clutching his goblet in his palms tightly since he didn’t trust himself not to drop it in the state he was in.

James eyed him like he was crazy and, you know what, maybe he was, better to know it than for James to waste any more time on him. Regulus, after a few more sips, peered over at the boy perched on the table. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, starkly white shirt half untucked by his waist and top button undone. The usual scarlet Gryffindor tie was nowhere to be seen. He was somewhat awkwardly tapping his shoes and staring around at anything that wasn’t Regulus. Did Sirius know he had spilled firewhiskey on his younger brother?

“Who invited you?” James asked, obviously trying to break the silence, “Not that you’re not allowed to be– or anything. I was just…wondering…” Regulus blew a stray hair out of his face and determined that James was not as comfortable with silence as he was. Sometimes silence was nice.

“My friend, Pandora, is in Ravenclaw,” Regulus answered, surprising himself by giving away any information about his life.

“Pandora? Isn’t she Evan Rosier’s cousin?” James asked casually, as if he knew everyone. Which he probably did. Regulus nodded, hoping that would let the conversation fade into silence again, or perhaps he could sneak away. Apparently James had not caught the hint,

“We’re in Charms and Astronomy together. I’ve never spoken to her but she seems nice,” he said, strained, in Regulus’s opinion, “Is she?”

“Nice?” Regulus asked like it wasn’t an at all odd question to ask someone, and James nodded, “No she’s terribly mean, that’s why I’m friends with her.” James was taken aback again but recovered quickly,

“Well, anyone who’s friends with you would have to like people who are terribly mean, wouldn’t they?” he said.

“Lucky for everyone, I have no friends,” Regulus meant it as a joke but missed the mark.

“Then who are Barty Crouch and Evan Rosier?”

“It was–” he was cut off by the hanging curtains opening and MacDonald leading an embarrassingly excited looking blonde Ravenclaw in, “...a joke.” Without glancing around the room to make sure the coast was clear, she pulled his head down and kissed him deeply. Regulus looked away pointedly.

“Oi!” James was on his feet, “Mary, bloody hell!”

They pulled apart and MacDonald turned slowly toward James as if he was merely an interruption. The Ravenclaw suddenly looked like he was two seconds away from sprinting out of there. Regulus couldn’t blame him, for the first time James actually looked like he would beat someone to a pulp, but the boy didn’t have to be embarrassing about it.

“Would you leave us alone?” MacDonald asked, faking politeness.

“For this…berk to take advantage of you? Absolutely not,” James said, nonplussed. MacDonald scoffed, rolling her eyes,

“Well, that’s really really none of your business,” she said, aggravated, obviously mentally squaring up for a fight. James changed tactics,

“Were you actually going to do this where anyone could walk in? Were you?” he asked the Ravenclaw. He shrugged and looked to MacDonald, as if she was a magnet pulling his eyes toward her at every moment. Regulus could have laughed.

“So you’re saying we should do this somewhere else?” she taunted, “All right. Come on, McLaggen, we’re relocating to your dorm.” Taking McLaggen’s hand again, they left. James followed, stomping after them.

Regulus breathed out a sigh and lay his head against the back of the chair, to sip on his drink alone.

“Reg? There you are,” Pandora swept into the room off the main common room, where he was still sitting in the exact same place James had left him except the goblet was empty, “I’ve been looking for you.” Regulus’s thumb circled the top edge of the cup as she crouched down, propping her chin in her hands to gaze up at him.

“I thought you were off with that Lovegood bloke,” he said.

“And leave you on your own for the remainder of the night? Never,” Pandora was being gentle with him because she thought he was tipsy, he could tell. Except he wasn’t…well, only slightly.

“I can take care of myself,” he said, then moved to put the goblet down on a side table and fumbled so Pandora took care of it.

“Of course you can,” she grinned, getting more comfortable on the rug.

Regulus had always internally hoped being drunk would loosen him up, possibly be an upper. Well, being a small bit inebriated, so far, was not as much of an upper as he thought though he was feeling more in the mood to get up and mingle by the minute. That was weird. Instead he turned his attention to Pandora. She was far from pissed but he could tell she had had something to drink at least.

“When I left you you were talking about his newspaper,” Regulus reminded her.

“It’s called The Quibbler,” she said, instantly brightening up, “He’s only put out two editions so far but apparently it’s been a success…”

“Or maybe no one has the courage to say it’s shite to his face,” Regulus suggested bluntly. Pandora seriously considered it then shook her head,

“I doubt it. It’s interesting, all about magical plants and creatures. He writes about different ones every week, or students send in articles they wrote about certain ones. Xenophelius plans to continue it after school, make it bigger, explore different creatures around the world and not be restricted to what’s in the forest and the greenhouses on Hogwarts grounds.”

“I can see why you're interested,” Regulus said generously.

“I’m actually going to write an article for the next paper. It’ll be on unicorns,” Pandora continued, “I know they seem a bit simple but they’re not really, especially in the way so much healing comes from what’s flowing in their own veins. The cause of why they’re so endangered and the motivations behind some witches and wizards who hunt them. I don’t know…Xenophelius says it’s engaging enough.”

“It is,” Regulus didn’t particularly care, but he knew she adored all things magical creatures and plants and resolved to listen for as long as she would talk. She only paused then asked,

“Have you been in here alone this whole time?”

“Yes,” Regulus immediately said before thinking again, “...No.” Why would he lie? He had absolutely no reason to, “One of my brother’s infuriating friends tossed a firewhiskey on me.”

“That’s why your trousers are damp,” Pandora pinched the fabric on his shin.

“I’d thank you not to say that in public,” he grumbled, tugging his trousers out of her grip.