"My, my simple sir, this ain't gonna work. Mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy slurs. I can't take this place, no, I can't take this place. I just wanna go where I can get some space."
_______________
I have a hang over.
Admittedly not my worst, but debilitating enough for me to debate skipping classes and staying in bed all day. I deserve a day of rest and recuperation after how well i've been doing, right? I want a day to piece myself together and my memories of the party last night. Of how much butterbeer I had.
I scoff to myself as I roll over in my bed.
Sure, that mean little voice tells me. You'll be in bed for two weeks, it taunts.
It's overcast, thank god, but even the pale light leaking leaking through the curtains is too much. I squint.
But I can't afford to miss anymore classes.
Not unless I want to be here for another year.
Avoiding mirrors at all costs, I use my wand to wash, dress and repair what is undoubtedly an owl's nest on top of my head. The stairs leading down to the common room are a much larger beast to slay, and I find my self gripping the walls to keep her balance the whole way down.
The common room is something of a mess. Confetti and streamers litter the floor. Empty bottles clutter every surface. The stains on the navy blue carpet could be any number of things. And yet the majority of Ravenclaw is already awake and sitting amongst it, talking over tea and enjoying a slow Thursday morning.
It's about an hour later, in Defence Against the Dark Arts when the cluttered mailbox that is my brain finally decides to send an important notice through. Allowing me to finally remember it.
It, which is kissing Black.
Being kissed by Black.
Even as I just scratch the surface of the memory, sensations and sounds start flooding back to me. The scent of his subtle sea-salt cologne. And the taste of cherries. The feel of his hands, cold and far too low on my hips. His mouth frozen on the outside, but so, so warm within. Just, him. Everywhere.
Even the sounds of his low pants echo in my ears alongside his words, 'Do you still want to be friends?'
I can't really remember anything that happened before I found the library, or after I had left, but in-between was him. And i've always been a sucker for the middle.
Him I can now remember with excruciating clarity.
My fingers shake, my quill trembles in my hand and I realize I should be disgusted with myself. I hate him, I hate everything he stands for. I should be disgusted for ever allowing him to get so close—no, so intimate.
It's likely he knows the person who killed my best friend.
It's possible he has some idea who stole the light of my life right out from under me.
He's the youngest rumoured death-eater.
But my traitorous mind goes elsewhere, tracing back to a few other kisses i've had in my life. I don't allow myself to wonder whether it was my best kiss, because I know that it was and i'm not willing to admit that just yet.
A gooey sort of helplessness bleeds into my stomach.
What if he tells someone? What if he's already told someone? What if—what if he's using me in some way to get back at his brother and Remus already knows?
"Ms. Evans, you're shaking," The professor interrupts my thoughts. Mercifully. "Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing for a rest?"
And yet, as I find my way out of the classroom, I find that being alone with my thoughts is the last thing I need.
I have to do something.
I have to do something.
I have to do something.
☽☽☽
Somehow I end up in the court yard, which is now mostly empty thanks to small mercies. Still, I don't trust it.
I slow, walking casually—struggling not to walk strangely. I scuff my foot on the ground making a bit of noise.
But only when I have just a half of meter left to walk without being seen by him does he finally look up.
And meeting his eyes startles me so much I almost forget what I'm doing. His gaze is heavy, lidded and sharp. Full of everything and nothing I can understand, and the expression on his face gives away nothing, per usual.
He quirks a dark brow and each nerve ending in my body prickles, as though every one of my limbs is threatening to fall asleep.
I hesitate, messing up my careful pace and stop, for just a moment. And then I gather my wits and continue my march towards him.
Taking a seat next to him on the stone marble bench, I wait.
It's of course possible that he doesn't want to see me. Entirely possible he finds my whole existence laughable and pathetic and he's going to get up and walk away any second and—
"Can I make a suggestion, Evans?"
I clear my throat, crossing my arms. "If you must."
A wry grin tugs his lips up on one end, and I try to crush the fluttering in my stomach. "If subtly is your aim, then this..." he mimics the way I paused and widened my eyes, though exaggerated, "...probably isn't the best way to go,"
I squint at him, flashing an unfriendly smile, "Oh, why thank you. I'll keep that in mind,"
How is it so easier to call back into petty banter after what—what happened?
He should be as tense as I am, by right. But of course he isn't. He's Regulus Black.
I can't let myself lose sight of that fact.
Because recently, my mental list has been growing longer.
All the facts I have to remind myself daily:
Iris is dead.
Remus bit me.
Remus and I broke up.
Amos and I are no longer close.
My mother is dying.
I have no more friends.
Regulus Black is a Slytherin.
Regulus Black is a Pureblood.
And now I can add, Regulus Black is Regulus Black, to the list. Because the facts, are the only thing that matter anymore.
"So, Evans," he crosses one leg, ankle on his knee, "why is my alone time being interrupted?" It's a little offputting, him speaking as though nothing ever happened. I wonder if he plans to deny it, and the thought throws me off a bit.
Still, I power through, beginning to deliver a speech I hadn't even thought about writing yet.
"Well, I think it's fair to say we both know what happened—"
"Well spotted—"
"This will go better if you stay quiet until i'm done, I think," I say, staring straight ahead into the distance. This bench is perfect, I don't have to look at him when we speak.
Black huffs a laugh, but beyond that stays silent.
"We both know what happened and we were both tipsy. For both of our sakes I think it would be best if we don't tell anyone. And, of course, it can never happen again. You asked me if I still wanted to be friends, and i'm telling you now, my answer is yes. Friends."
I feel quite proud of myself but the ever growing length of Blacks silence starts to deplete this pride and turn it acidic.
So acidic that I eventually find myself peering out of the corner of my eye to see his face. His expression, as always, is unreadable.
"...Well?" I prompt after a few more seconds pass.
"Well, what Evans?" He says at last, tone impossible to riddle out. "You came all the way out here just to ask me if I kiss and tell? I don't."
I'm a bit surprised. He seems to be both parts offended and amused. "No—I just—"
"Ohhhhhh. You just wanted to go again?" His eyes meet mine so suddenly and so directly that I gasp.
"What!?"
The wry smile makes a reappearance. "That's why we're sitting together right now, isn't it Evans? For a repeat performance?"
"I—how dare you—"
But Black is up off the bench in a second, so suddenly I can't even comprehend it. He has his hands on either side of where I sit and he's leaning over me, slanted at an angle. Almost as though he's about to do a push up. And our faces are centimetres apart.
"Could've just asked, Sunshine." He murmurs, his voice low and deadly, to the point where I can't tell if he's seducing or threatening me. Maybe both.
My heart is hammering in my chest, and my breath has abandoned me. It's so clearly a power play. I know he isn't dense enough to actually believe Ive come here for more.
"Step back," I demand, but it comes out as more of a whisper. "Someone could see you."
"Does that scare you?" Black asks, inching impossibly closer. "Being seen?" His breath disturbs the hair alongside my face, shrouded in cherries and icy cold. "Like this? With me?" He inches that last bit further so that the tips of our noses brush against each other.
"Yes,"
He chuckles again, and it's enough to brush my top lip against his. My eyes snap shut and I suck in an audibly sharp breath.
"Regulus," I hear myself wheeze, but it's almost soundless.
I could do it.
I could be reaching for him and pull him to me so that his mouth is to mine. I could lose all sense of control, this time without the aid of alcohol.
Except it's also the same exact moment he pulls himself away.
He straightens up like it's nothing, like he wasn't just about to kiss me again. So cool, calm and collected it makes me want to throw things.
"Needn't worry about reputations, Evans. Friends don't snog anyways. " He stalks away, just like that. Throwing the last bit over his shoulder. "But they can if you want them too,"
And I sit there, the cold of the marble leeching through my skirt, smiling like an idiot.
__________
Song: Gooey by Glass Animals