„How strange
to dream of you
even when
I am wide awake."
Camille was in a bad mood as she walked behind Lorraine and Alaric along the paths of the estates. There was probably no other explanation for her scrunched-up face and her petulant steps, otherwise so light as a feather as she walked across the ground.
It was early in the morning, too early even for her taste. Because she didn't want to waste a Sunday, even before the small hand of a clock had reached eight, going to the Quidditch pitch tired and shivering miserably. The freezing temperatures that November had brought froze her fine face and cast a telltale blush on her pale cheeks.
The morning hoarfrost crunched softly under her sturdy boots of genuine dragon leather as they walked down the icy and slippery path. An icy gust of wind caught them with tremendous force and she hurriedly adjusted her white fluffy earmuffs, which it had almost carried away. In the process, Camille's warming jar almost slipped from her gloved hand.
It had been Alaric's idea to turn it into a source of warmth with the help of harmless blue flames and indeed it served its purpose and was probably one of the reasons that kept her from fleeing back to her warm down bed.
"Now don't pull that face, Camille," Lorraine called to her over her shoulder, pulling her lower lip forward in a huff. Though the two blondes still hadn't spoken, it seemed their argument had faded into the background for the moment as they acted as if nothing had ever happened. Camille sighed, that was how it usually went in pureblood families. But she was glad to have one of her best friends back, even if she had to share her with a member of a cursed family; Garreth Greengrass.
"You know exactly how I feel about Quidditch; I do care how we do against Gryffindor, but if I had a choice, I'd rather be sitting by the warm fire right now," Camille remarked shivering and clasping the warm glass tighter in her hands, hoping the pressure wouldn't break it into a hundred pieces.
"All grumbling, our good Camille! And I took so much trouble with the jar. But you'll see, it's going to be fun!" Alaric joined in with an encouraging smile and shining eyes. But he too straightened the green silver striped scarf and wrapped it tighter around his neck. "Besides, I'm sure Regulus will be happy to see you cheering him on!"
The mismatched sibling exchanged a fleeting yet meaningful glance. Camille rolled her turquoise eyes. Lorraine was far too much of a romantic to notice what the odds were around her and Regulus, and Alaric was too fond of making jokes that he ended up laughing the loudest at, as if he actually took them for granted.
"And I'm sure Emma would be sad if we missed out on her win against Gryffindor!", Lorraine agreed with him excitedly, rustling the massive banner she had designed especially for her friend, which featured a moving brunette girl on a broom and holding the Quidditch cup. The naïve blonde had a real talent for this kind of thing, Camille had noticed it often. She herself was neither particularly creative nor good at drawing.
Faster than expected, the huge stands came into view, already filled with excitedly chattering students. The steps of the stairs were icy and Camille almost landed on the seat of her sacred trousers, which she dismissed with a wrinkle of her nose. If anyone saw this, she would surely be one of the castle's new laughingstocks. In any case, her classmates were already tearing their mouths apart about what she had thrown at Sirius a few days earlier, and that didn't just mean her flat palm.
They settled down in the third last row and all of a sudden the scarf seemed far too warm to her, because she had started to sweat due to the strenuous ascent. The rising warmth of her body gathered under the lining of her cloak and made an unpleasant contrast to the icy cold skin on her face.
Alaric lovingly placed both hands on her sister's shoulders and moved them quickly up and down, thus giving her warmth. At first glance, the twins were as different as night and day, but just as the sun and the moon rotated around the earth every day and the moon would not even shine without the sun, the siblings were also dependent on each other, they needed each other.
She could not allow her longest friend, the girl whose cheers were loudest when the players finally marched onto the field and whose heart was in the right place, to be disowned by her family, her brother. Not because of a boy who would eventually drop her again.
Camille pinched her lips together and let her gaze continue to glide over the stadium. A few rows in front of her, she could spot Dawson, who must have turned around to meet her eyes. She almost returned his gaze with a twist of her bright eyes, but an idea suddenly occurred to her. Possibly his desperate desire for a sensible marriage would be of use to her in the future.
At that moment the players of the two opposing teams entered the field and seemed to be holding a final camp meeting all to themselves. Camille's thoughts wandered back to the subject that had been on her mind all the last few days anyway; him. Regulus. She had long been sure she was hopelessly lost in him. And there he stood, cape billowing and equipped with a broom.
Regulus' breath and that of his team members rose above their heads into the sky before it melted completely into the cold. The day had barely begun and the sun had not even fully emerged from behind the mountains, while the dew had already buried the entire Quidditch pitch.
Shivering, the Slytherin team stood at the foot of the stands and listened to the strategy Emma was drumming into them for the umpteenth time. No one dared to say anything against her plan, because they all just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible so that they could warm up in the castle afterwards.
Evan responded to the captain's motivating words with a yawn and a half-smile turned to Regulus. Approving and sleepy murmurs half-heartedly filled the air, but Emma looked pleased. Unlike his teammates, Regulus couldn't wait to finally take to the skies again and when the time finally came, it took him a few seconds to remember that he wasn't on his broom for pleasure alone.
Flying calmed him, it always had and probably always would. The cool wind in his dark curls, the world below him small and insignificant. The young Black flew high and higher and higher, so that he could barely understand the commentator's announcements and the goal rings on either side of the Quidditch pitch looked teeny tiny.
The forbidden forest stretched dark and ominous below him, just like the black lake that glistened in the light of the rising sun. Even the distant snow-capped peaks of the mountains could be made out by the Seeker in the distance.
Regulus was aware that Emma was proud to have him as a Seeker. However, she had had to reprimand him often enough when his mind had drifted during training or Merlin forbid even during the game. The air was icy in the heights and stung his young face painfully, but Regulus almost enjoyed the numb feeling that gradually crept into his fingers before he finally sank back down towards the ground.
Perhaps Emma's concern was justified, for Regulus had not been able to take his eyes off her, instead a broad smile spreading to the numb corners of his mouth as he spotted the cheering blonde in the crowd. The last conversation had stirred him up inside, but he couldn't blame Camille for her behaviour. After all, he was aware that he was born to be the second choice. Apparently in many ways.
A few times he had thought he saw the familiar golden glow shining between his teammates, but again and again his gaze had merely sought out the silky blonde hair in the crowd.
She was incredible, the way she had both hands clasped prayerfully in front of her chest and looked up at him as if wishing him all the luck in the world. Regulus did not want to disappoint her.
And when the Seeker actually caught the Snitch a little later and stretched it triumphantly into the air, a proud smile spread across Camille's pale lips and Regulus wondered why he hadn't caught the little golden ball much earlier merely for the blonde.
Her hair blew in the wind as she ran down to him, first congratulating Emma like a whirlwind before finally turning to him. He felt her warmth and could smell the expensive perfume that gently enveloped her day after day. He almost forgave her for the way she had behaved on the day of the Hogsmeade weekend and how she had slowly withdrawn her hand from him. Once again Regulus felt a stab in his heart at the memory.
He had lain awake for nights, because as soon as he closed his eyes, he saw only her face in his mind's eye. The blonde silky hair, the eyes as turquoise as an ocean on the other side of the world and the dazzling smile that had almost wiped him off his broom before.
He couldn't and wouldn't believe that she was supposed to find him so repulsive. Not when she was as close to him as she was at that moment. So close that their noses were almost touching and stealing a kiss would have been mere millimetres away.