[ 1 ] EXPLODE ( r. black ! )

ten || an occlumency handbook

Upon a piece of hair escaping from being tucked under his wand, Regulus reached to put it back but caught Eleanor staring as well. "What is it?"

"Nothing." She blurted quickly, for reasons she didn't really know. For a moment, she turned back to her own book, saw 'close' and 'mind' together again, and looked right back up at an amused Regulus. "It's just... Don't you think it's a little odd how quickly this friendship has occurred? How naturally?"

Shuffling about, Regulus put down his leg and upright book as he cleared his throat and tilted his head. "Would you prefer me to be calling you names?"

"No. I'm just saying that it seems fake." She shrugged.

"And I'm just saying that it sounds like you're trying to pick a fight. So, listen here, I don't really care about this – I'm safe – I don't have to do any of this. You don't have the luxury to not care therefore if you want me to help you, stop trying to pick fights and let me."

Like with every time they fought, their eyes that held confidence in their side stayed firmly on the other's. Each of them could hold their own like that as if it was a perfected art piece by then. Sometimes, when around people who took little interest in either side of their debate, those people would try to break them with strong gushes of wind, stupid dances and even stupider remarks ("just make out already," one kid had yelled at them once and Eleanor had replied, "in his dreams," without breaking eye contact). Neither of them ever really did break, they'd look away at the same time as if decided then continue to catch each other's antagonizing stare.

This time was different. No longer were they arguing about grades. No longer were they debating Voldemort's latest actions in the least subtle, subtle manner they could. No longer were they at each other's throats for any reason they could find. Regulus was offering his help to, possibly, save her life and it was Eleanor who was threatening to ruin that. It's a common misconception that have people believing Slytherin's never admit when they're wrong... They do, occasionally.

"Alright," Eleanor huffed as a way of apology and Regulus knew it because he, in an amused fashion, shook his head. "It's just hard to remember that we aren't supposed to be arguing constantly anymore."

"Were we even supposed to?"

"I don't know, you started it," Eleanor responded heatedly before she could stop herself. In the silent aftermath, she stared at the table for a moment and then... laughter. "See. Can just get on with it. Voldemort and co won't have chance to kill me if reading this blasted book does it first."

"I believe you mean the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. That could be what's going to get you killed, if anything, really."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to do it?"

"Not yet," Regulus mused and gained a sarcastic 'hah' in response. Admittedly, the thought of killing one and other had been a concept each of them had fought of and, not that they'd even dream of saying it to the other, but they both knew they couldn't go through with it. Both of them knew there was a difference between a childhood feud and mortal enemies.

Under Regulus' silent instructions, Eleanor sat on the comfortable sofa which relieved her back from much studying-posture pain – she doubted Regulus had that issue, after observing him. However, she also doubted that the relief would last long because of the other thing that had stuck in her brain after briefly reading Escaping the Grasp apart from 'close your mind': Legilimency bloody sucks to have done on you when you're trying to stop it. The book didn't quite put it like that though; it was more Shakespearean.