𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰ᴿᵉᵍᵘˡᵘˢ ᴮˡᵃᶜᵏ

ɪɪ. ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ʜɪᴅᴇ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ ᴇQᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇʟʟ

❝𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡.❞

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

As a child of a pureblood family, there were many things that I was taught. One of the most important ones was that every move should be carefully calculated. One word could reveal a thousand important secrets but hide the double of that behind it.

That was the thing with pure-bloods, really. We had it put into us since childhood, that we must know how to read between the lines of the words that the others said and put our real words between lines too.

Everything was hidden, carefully concealed yet in plain sight in front of, the words spelling out each thing in a crystal language only if you were smart enough and knowledgeable enough to know it. And if you weren't, then well, it evaded you completely. You could search for a million years and never find what you were truly deceived from.

I was taught the interpretation.

It all lies in their eyes, spoke my father. And yours must look like that too.

He told us that it was the glimmer in the eyes that told you. The dark, maniac little spot that told you the truth. That showed their true intentions. Those eyes would tell you everything, unless, of course, you chose not to make eye contact.

And you must never, ever, NOT make eye contact. Mother chimes in.

It was the mark of a proper pure-blood, lying right to your face in honey-coated words and phrases that seemed to make no sense.

That was what else I remember of the night that decided my fate.

My parents tell me they had never hidden anything from me, and their eyes are adorned by the same glimmer they told me to look out for.

Frustration prevailing in my head as I turned around from them, walking away as the heels of my footwear clicked against the polished wood floors of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Climbing up the staircase, my fingers clutching the railing tightly as my nails dug into the wood, scratching it as I ascended.

A voice sounds behind me, "The wood will be dented beyond repair by the time you've reached upstairs."

I turn around, almost falling and catching myself.

Brown eyes stare into mine, no glimmer hidden behind them. Curls fall into the face of chiselled cheek bones, sharp chin and impeccably handsome features. A lith and thin body, from what I could see, typical of just one particular family.

"Regulus Black." I realise.

In response, he just smiles at me and then he is gone.

I thought of it as I saw the Black family sweep into King's Cross Station. All eyes turned their way, and while most turned away on seeing who it was, some lingered.

My parents, of course, saw them, and so me and my older brother were dragged away to greet this branch of the Black's.

I sighed. Knowing them, this was just their way of agitating the family, to get in a casual jab about their runaway son.

So I followed them, lagging behind them. I looked at the clock against the wall of the platform, glad to see that it was already 10:55 pm.

I turned to see my parents already having walked up to the Blacks, and hurried to catch up to them.