Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
The words spill out of his mouth faster than he can think to keep them in.
"I'm sorry," he says, and though he doesn't mean to say it, he finds he really does mean it. She doesn't reply, though, so he inhales and nods, reaffirming himself, because this is the right thing to do. Dorcas said it was the right thing to do, and Regulus has never known Dorcas Meadowes to be wrong.
Finally, by the time Regulus thinks his insides have eaten themselves out, Lyra inhales too and an unfamiliar smile covers her lips.
"For what?"
Regulus falters, a fraction of a word coming out of his mouth before he slams it shut in thought. Then he shakes his head slightly.
"For... you know."
Lyra tips her head to the side. She is swinging her legs to and fro again, perched on the windowsill of the south corridor's lookout onto the Black Lake; though she's facing Regulus instead of the view.
It had been hard to get her on her own, admittedly. He had no desire to stalk on up to Amos Diggory and Emmeline Vance just to break through their lines of defence and get to Lyra. For nearly a week now, since he'd spoken to Dorcas in the empty Transfiguration room, Regulus had been trying to find times when Lyra was alone so he could talk to her.
But she was never alone. Not that he could see.
Finally, though, he caught her just when Aurora Sinistra dipped her head to get a quill out of her bag. When she came back up, Lyra was gone, and the only thing left was a trace of Regulus's cologne. Lyra and Regulus, however, were long past.
Now, he wishes he had Dorcas or Pandora here, because one of them would know what to say.
Does Lyra really not remember just last week? How could that be fair? How is it that she was blessed with the freedom of forgetting, while Regulus fell victim to the curse that is remembering?
Thought it isn't really a curse, he thinks, if you like thinking about it. And he really did. Couldn't stop himself from picturing himself and Lyra in all sorts of situations that play off of what they'd done in the broom cupboard.
"Come on, Regulus," she says now, her head rolling to the side. She's smiling, but she doesn't look impressed. "Water under the bridge, yeah? I don't mind it, really. Kinda had me going, there, that you'd kill me, though.."
Regulus has to take a second to himself, because he can't believe his lucky stars that she's forgiven him so easily. It took him over a month to even begin to forgive himself for fancying a Muggleborn. How could she sweep everything under the rug that easy?
After a moment, he exhales a laugh, letting his worries ease out with it. "Yeah," he says, adjusting himself against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankles for leisure, "I had myself going, too. Anyway, I am sorry. I spoke to Dorcas about it—"
