Chapter 29
November came with a whirl of orange leaves and endless sheaves of classwork. Regulus spent most of his time curled in the library, working steadily through dusty textbooks and elaborate diagrams, ink staining his fingers as his quill scratched across yards of parchment. Pandora often sat with him, she too buried in schoolwork and enjoying the serenity of companionable silence. James, Sirius and Remus would often pass through, sometimes giving him a faint nod but more often than not hurrying past with their heads down. James sometimes caught his eye with a faint smile, a little tremor passing between the tension of their gazes that shivered down Regulus’s back in a delicious way. It whispered something that only the two of them knew. Yet the glances would end after a moment and Regulus would spend the afternoon convincing himself it meant nothing. Although the school had dulled down to a faint murmur with the change in season, even the brightly colored stained glass of the windows mellowing into yellows and oranges, Regulus and Pandora found endless ways to keep themselves entertained.
“This next one” Pandora giggled in a hushed voice.
“That bloke is shrimpy, Panda, that’s almost mean”
Pandora turned to him with eyebrows raised.
“Alright fair--do it”
Pandora suppressed a laugh as she pointed her wand at the receding back of a short first year. She whispered a hex. The first year stiffened, surprised, and immediately began to turn a violent shade of purple. He dropped his books in surprise, staring at his violet hands.
“Wait for it” Regulus whispered, holding back his laughter. Indeed, the first year released a shocked yelp as his small feet floated an inch off the floor, and then another. He flailed in panic, grasping the collar of his friend to keep him grounded. As if splattered with paint, the friend--a rather large redhead--also suddenly resembled a large blueberry. She too, began to rise from the ground. Both first years cried in shock, bouncing gently against the ceiling and drifting aimlessly across the hallway. Regulus and Pandora shook with laughter, hidden safely behind a disappearing door and away from the crowds now filling the hallway. Several people stopped and pointed, most snickering, but no one felt the need for alarm. Pranks had been increasing at an alarming rate this year, with the increasing pressure of academics resulting in creative outlets being doubled in force. With the reckless, daring stunts pulled by James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew supplemented with quieter, but no less creative, pranks by lesser known tricksters such as Regulus and Pandora, a passage through the hallways was hardly guaranteed to be made without some threat to your dignity. The two first years now resting comfortably against the tall, domed ceiling has stopped whimpering for help, having resigned themselves to their fate as the source of many jokes for the next week or so. Regulus glanced at Pandora.
“Class starts in five, think we oughta let them down, yeah?”
“If you say so” Pandora sighed with mock disappointment. She whispered a countercurse and the two first years drifted gently to the ground, their skin returning to its normal shade--albeit furiously blushed--and their scattered books neatly sliding into their bags.
“I invented that one myself,” she said proudly. Regulus grinned.
“I could tell. What’re you gonna name this one?”
“Flying plum?”
Regulus snorted. “At this rate you’ll be the next Marauder.”
“Is that what they call themselves now?”
“Sirius and his friends? Yeah, they’ve been strutting around like their members of a club and all the rest of us aren’t allowed in”
“Bloody snots”
Regulus grunted his agreement. Sirius did bother him, with his stupid looking long hair and stuck up attitude. Remus was a little odd, always looking like he knew too much and always trying to seem like the good person. Peter, he didn’t give a second thought to, except to mentally chide Sirius for letting himself be flattered by the clearly spineless watery eyed boy. James, even with his ego and his stupid hair and his bad jokes, Regulus couldn’t bring himself to hate. He hadn’t told Pandora about their meetings; he wasn’t sure how and was nearly positive she would think he was out of his mind. Besides, for her to know about their lessons would somehow take away some of the shimmering privacy of those afternoons, the fact that they were his.
Pandora was giving him an odd look out of the corner of her eye, and when he turned to face her her silver gaze lingered on him for a little too long. He shivered. It was moments like that he had the uncanny feeling that she could see straight to his soul.
“Do you have class?” he asked. She shook her head.
“Are you skipping?” she asked smilingly. Regulus had herbology next, the only class he couldn’t advance. As a result, it was painfully easy.
“I'll get more out of my time in the library.”
“Fair” Pandora responded, slowly rising from where they were crouched behind the invisible passageway. “The essay McGonagall assigned for transfiguration is brutal--it's NEWT level and she's only giving us a week.”
“Better than transfiguring teapots.” Regulus scoffed, climbing into the hallway as well. Pandora was the only other person in his year taking advanced classes. She hadn’t received his level of early education, but was naturally brilliant at transfiguration and had begged to be moved to his class at the beginning of third year. Mcgonagall grudgingly agreed, in part because she felt Regulus needed a friend, and in part because she recognized the innate genius in Pandora’s every twitch of a wand. Her other classes, however, were the custom given to third year students, and from what Regulus had gathered were mind numbingly simple. As they reentered the hallway, Pandora tripped slightly and fell into Regulus. He instinctively grabbed her, setting her upright. Her long silvery hair brushed his face, a scent of vanilla and something exotic washing through him. Her hair was perfectly soft. A fleeting sense of disappointment rushed through him when she tossed it back behind her. For just a single moment, the light settled on her features and made her silvery eyes seem almost goddess-like, regally glittering at Regulus. Something stirred in his stomach, a feeling he was unaccustomed to yet was undeniably familiar.
“Thanks” she muttered, righting herself and moving forward without a thought. Regulus stalled behind her, eyes widened and mind spinning. Her robes swirled as she walked, intricate patterns he knew she wove into the seams herself flashing daintily in the afternoon light. The edge slid back for a moment, revealing a narrow swatch of pale skin that trailed up her thigh and disappeared into sheets of cloth once more.
“What?” she asked calmly, turning to see Regulus frozen awkwardly behind her. Pandora did not easily faze. “Something on my back?”
“No” Regulus squeaked, clearing his throat and striding to her side. “Nothing, just tired.”
He stared straight ahead, fighting to control the heat rushing to his face. It was one of the many skills he developed to live with Walburga, excellent bodily control.
“Alright” Pandora shrugged, already staring distractedly out the window, where the leaves were swirling through the autumn air in patterns resembling racing dragons. Regulus was grateful for her occupation. What had happened to him? He was painfully aware of Pandora’s presence next to him, of the stride of her step next to his, the warmth of her body inches away. It itched at his mind like an unrelenting bite. She for a moment had seemed like the prettiest person on the whole earth; Regulus gagged internally hearing himself. He was losing it, turning into those wishy poets his mother said resulted in loose breeding and free literature.
“Argh” he growled, shaking his head sharply as if to expel the persistent thoughts.
“Huh?” Pandora asked.
“Nothing.”
The two of them walked slowly to the library, Regulus staring stiffly ahead.