clarity
The Slytherin dorms are grey. Regulus does not mean that in the way of there is no colour; the sheets are green and the carpet silver. He means it in the way of if he had to associate a colour with Slytherin, it would be grey. There is green and silver and brown throughout Slytherin (a lot of green), but to him, it is grey.
It's grey in the way it moves - a background, a wraith, a shift. Two things at once - colour and shade; cunning and loyalty. A House that is seen to be based on prejudice when, in fact, its people are perceived differently via their reasons fo being there. Cunning or sly? Honest or loyal? Ambitious or determined?
It's grey in the way it sounds - muted and full. Regulus can hear a thousand secrets in a breath and a thousand lies in a heartbeat. It isnt muted in the way of there is nothing to say; it is muted in the way of there is nothing we want you to see. But it's full, so full, connections and strings and directions filling the empty spaces and the gaps between inhale and exhale.
It's grey in the way it holds itself - strong and tired, dark and free, untrustworthy and safe. Slytherin runs back to back to side. There is the united outside, and it's united inside too, more so than the other Houses because it has to be, but inside you stop being the Slytherin House and become a Slytherin student. The shades are open and hidden. And then, in your dorms, it stops being about Slytherin at all.
Regulus isn't sure how, or why, but he just looks at his House and goes that fits the grey. It reminds him of his mother's eyes (of his eyes), eyes that aren't the Black's unholy silver but are instead the Fawley's layered grey.
Slytherin in grey, and Regulus is purple. That is what his mother says, at least. Purple for imagination, for fantasy, for art. For justice and redemption and mystery. He had told her purple meant royalty. She had told him he was her prince.
He bites his lip to stop himself from smiling.
In Slytherin, he dorms with four others; Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a maybe-not-a-boy name Narcissus Zabini, who is so different from his name it is almost funny. The other twenty-five or so students in their year are spread throughout the corridor. There are seven levels, with seventh years at the bottom (where it's quieter) and first years at the top (where it's easier). The level above them is the common room and their own personal Slytherin library.
Regulus is so excited he could scream.
Despite the amount of people, he has yet to really connect with anyone. He keeps a distant eye on Sirius and Scar (Remus Lupin, he learns his name is), and, well, Rosier is like a fungus. That is probably because neither of them have friends yet and he just wants a recognisable face, but either way, he appears for no apparent reason and seems to have contracted an illness that makes it so he cannot be further than three feet from Regulus unless it is physically impossible. At least, he supposes, he has someone to partner with in all of his lessons.
Two weeks in, on a Saturday, he is in the library. Rosier, to no great surprise, is with him - they are sharing a table for homework - but, right now, as Regulus brushes his fingers across the book spines, he is not. Regulus is here, three shelves away from that table, and Rosier is there.
This is where he meets Pandora Lestrange.
He walks into her - quite literally, in fact; one moment he is scanning ("perusing," his mother would say, "is the art of searching for books"), the next, he turns around, smacks his face into her elbow, and grabs ahold of the shelf in order not to face plant, feet slipping, which leads to him standing awkwardly slumped against the books.
All in all, not his best first meeting. Admittedly, it's better than the time Sirius skidded across the ballroom floor, tripped over, fell into him, dumped Bubblefizz on him and then got them tangled in the drapes, but it's certainly up there.
"Oh!" Lestrange says, startled. "Sorry," they both say at the same time. Her lips twitch and she giggles, as if smiling is simply something she cannot stop herself from doing. "Pandora Lestrange," she says, offering him her palm.
I know, he thinks drily, but shakes her hand, silently noting the difference between Rosier, whose grip is stronger and surer and more unforgiving. "Regulus Black."
Lestrange giggles and grins, bright and happy. It's an utterly intolerable grin, simply because he cannot stop himself from smiling back.
That is not the last time they interact - far from it, in fact. In their Ravenclaw-Slytherin potions lesson, she sits beside him before Rosier can, who flops (as much as a pure blood can) into the seat in front, glaring mullishly (in a polite, dignified way, of course) at her odd bottle necklace. However, after a disastrous day of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, she sinks next to Rosier in Transfiguration.
Regulus gracefully takes the seat nest to Crouch, who smiles a little uncertainly, his voice fledging and wavering. Simply because he doesn't want to hurt his feelings, Regulus sits with him in Transfiguration from then on. Each lesson, Crouch gets a little stronger, a little more sure, greeting him with a certain smile and a head nod, moving the bag he uses to save the seat. Each lesson (after the third, that is) he makes sure to help, to let him talk mindlessly, to prompt him, to compliment him - from what he can tell, Crouch does not believe he is allowed to talk and does not believe he is good enough and, well, how can Regulus let that stand? Every lesson (after the eighth, hs thinks) he makes sure to initiate some kind of physical contact; knees pressed together, elbows resting on each others, standing at his shoulder. Crouch is very obviously touch starved.
This starts to bleed into everything else, too. Crouch sits with him and Rosier at meal times, first nervous and hesitant, but then seeking them out. He stops asking and checking constantly. At one point, he comes bounding into the dorm, and flops down on Regulus' bed, rambling about an extra credit project for Herbology that the is doing with a Hufflepuff named Edgar Bones, only to freeze when he realises. Because he doesn't want Crouch reverting back to bad habits, he merely shifts his homework (only slightly stained) off of the bed, making sure not to pull away physically, and engages in the conversation.
In other words, he prefers Crouch to Rosier, and is much more invested in him personally, because his mental health is appalling and for Black bad mental health means dangerous obsession.
Crouch becomes a permanent addition in his life, along with Crouch and Rosier.
"It's Evan," Rosier reminds him.
Lestrange laughs and flutters her fingers. "Pandora, please."
Crouch shifts slightly. "Um- would you mind calling me Barty?"
...damnit. he wasn't supposed to get emotionally invested in them. He wasn't supposed to get emotionally invest in anybody. He wasn't supposed to get emotionally invested full stop. The only thing he should be getting invested in is the obsession.
"Only if you call me Regulus."