꧁ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ꧂

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 43

꧁✧✧✧꧂

𝖁ery few noted Romie's departure from the birthday party.

And the ones that had promptly forgot when the next pencilled date arrived days later. Valentines Day. The celebratory holiday of love, or as Remus likes to call it, another brilliant excuse to scoff down tasty chocolate treats. Whilst their other friends days consisted of thoughtful gifts, sappy speech and unlimited kisses, Romie's consisted of smiling tightly when Mary excitedly mentioned just short of fifty times Regulus must have grand plans, and Regulus', setting fire to the ten, fifteen, twenty daft notes he'd written to meet in Hogsmeade.

Fire had perhaps been the wrong choice of disposing, the bin a more suitable option, because the glowing flames licking the parchment made him start thinking, reflecting. Brooding. Whilst he wouldn't take back his confession if it was between that and death by burning at the stake, Regulus had began wondering whether it was a step too far. Because he's hardly caught a glimpse of Romie since.

It's not a plain, active avoidance like the last time, from the soft, sympathetic smiles from Pandora and Hestia, he can tell their Romie sightings are more frequent. It's just him.

"It's not just you"

A bone-chilling shiver rushes down his spine, glancing to the humming, mind reader of a Ravenclaw alongside him. Pandora plays with the quirky charm dangling around her neck, adding airily,

"And it's not because of you"

Regulus slumps against the outer stone of the Potion's classroom, deciding against asking how she knows his thoughts. He's learned over the years it's better not to ask with Pandora. The same couldn't be said for the sweet Hufflepuff on his other side, her talents rested with hooks, needles and yarn not a creepily accurate sixth sense. He clocks her small peek to his wrist, grasping comprehension.

When he stops fiddling with the purple ribbon he subconsciously had been all along, she meets his gaze, explaining in an undertone so soft and quiet he has to bend down slightly in order to hear,

"This time of year is always the hardest. The anniversary is in between their birthdays"

Anniversary. The beginning of the things in their past that make them who they are today. Regulus has heard the middle, but not the beginning. Something tells him he's not ready yet to hear the whole beginning, considering the battle inside in his chest to not track down and treat Lyall Lupin as a lab rat of his own is still commencing, at the height of its potential. His suspicions and theories that keep him wide awake at night are enough for now.

Hestia's eyes of rich chocolate slide past his shoulder and brighten at something behind him. Regulus doesn't need the light nudge she gives him to advise turning around, he's already on the move, peering up the dimly lit hallway to where James Potter and Romie Lupin are slowly coming into view. The Head Boy's animatedly babbling on about the crazy content filling his huge head and whilst the younger girl doesn't speak, from time to time, she smiles faintly, incapable of resisting James Potter's blinding radiance.