꧁✧✧✧꧂
𝕿he Marauders were late to their last feast.
In fact, the absence didn't stop at the infamous four, spreading to the celebrity girl trio of the Gryffindor tower also.
Regulus doesn't feel a single ounce of surprise that they believe themselves to be so damn important the school, the world will be put on hold until they decide to grace them with their presence. No, Regulus isn't surprised, a strong contradiction to the tempestuous girl glancing to the grand oak doors every third second.
At the very least they could have forewarned her for the first five, ten, fifteen minutes of the special occasion, a huge, conspicuous emptiness would encircle her being. Sticking her out like a sore thumb.
"You do possess a fondness for glowering at these type of things, don't you?" Evan chirps on his left, agreeing completely to Barty's snicker,
"He possesses a fondness for glowering full stop"
An irritable grunt rumbles from the dark depths of Regulus' chest, disregarding his friends attempts to be funny. When the fifth year who made the wise, wise move to choose the seat across from the boy known for darkly brooding, shifts and blocks his view, he ends up on the receiving end of the glowers too. Cheeks reddening to an impressive degree, he scoots further down the bench, opening up a space for a clear view.
Evan didn't have to chase his friend's gaze to know who's deemed the centre of attention. It's not changed for months on end now. If Romie Lupin's present in a room, it's a one hundred percent guarantee pale eyes the colour of liquid mercury will be locked on her.
Shoving aside the soggy carrots on his plate, he reminds, "She's done with you, Reg"
The glower, worsened immensely, pins to him next, pursing his lips into a thin line. Perhaps he should have rephrased that better, admittedly word choosing has never been one of his strong suits. His mother is adamant in her belief that, for someone who's fairly academically intelligent, Evan lacks in the general ability to think before he speaks.
"You don't need anybody but yourself" Barty recalls promisingly, clapping him on the shoulder.
Regulus knows his intentions are pure, that he's only trying to make him feel better but unlike the beginning of the year when the words of wisdom originally had been spoken, Regulus has now had a taste of what it's like to have someone. Someone to hold, curl up against when the nighttime loneliness creeps in. Someone's to laugh with, smile with. Someone to make the journey of life in this unfair, slanted world a step up from bearable. Quite nice.
And having it, having that taste of someone and losing it is much, much worse than never having it all, he thinks. Because he knows, understands perfectly what he's lost. Not just Romie, a whole collection of infernal yet warm, caring, accepting people. People to call family. Instead of joining them, going home, he's returning to the house of horrors.
Instead of mentioning the ridiculousness of their stereotypical hats pointed high as they arrive at last, he's forced to judge from afar. Forced to admire the one of a kind, fierce glare of Romie's from afar.
"Where the fuck have you been?" She barks, the brunt of her glare taking to her reticent older brother.
It's not just Remus reticent, one survey around the close-knit clan reveals they're all in the same boat. Withholding any means of explanation. Or atleast the ones who seem to have got the message.
"Dumbledore's office" Peter informs plainly, stopping dead in his tracks when all eyes snap to him, lead, naturally, by Remus.
Romie extinguishes the urge to release hell's fire down on them for the obvious case of singling out occurring, absorbing what's been fed. Dumbledore's Office. The owlish and startlingly secretive Headmaster had requested to see not just one or two, but each of them. All at once. A meeting of sorts.
Interest piqued, Romie turns to Remus, interrupting, much to Peter's relief, his hair-raising intimidation session as she asks,
"What about?"
"If you were to know, you'd have been there" He mutters abrasively, ignoring the narrow of her eyes and adjusting the position of the walking cane that's become his best friend of late.
Feathers ruffled, Romie turns to Sirius and then to James when the former avoids her eye and reaches for the jug of water he'll slyly transfigure to rum. The bespectacled boy offers nothing but a small smile that reads plain as day it's for her own good. That's always the answer. And saying she's fed up of it would be understatement of the year. Sometimes Romie wonders if it's forgotten she's a single year below, not a wet behind the ears, wide-eyed school girl.
Underestimating her is a grave mistake on their part and won't they know it soon enough. Not so discreetly, she huffs, willing only to make amends if they offer a helping hand for what's popped into her head.
"Will you atleast tell me the password?"
"No" Remus scoffs, scar littered face screwing up, like it's the most absurd thing. Romie's expression isn't a far cry when she scoffs back,
"Why not?"
Swooping in and taking the lead on this one, James sets down his knife and fork, clears his throat and explains to the best of his ability,
"Because, our dear, sweet Moonette, quite frankly it would be beneficial if good ole Dumbles remains in good health"
Incapable of resisting, Sirius bursts into a fit of chuckles that he attempts to hide and fails miserably, the violent quaking of his shoulders a firm give away. Romie's scowl transfers to him from a crooked grinning James, in one swift movement, leaning across the table and smacking clean the stupid hat off the top of his head.
"Oh dear, look at that hat hair. I think I'd die, wouldn't you?" Romie speaks to no one in particular, loudly kissing her teeth.
Predictable. Sirius' reaction is so predictable that two seats down, on the other side of her boyfriend, the brightest witch of the age eyes rolls his dramatics before the silver spoon could be picked up to check his stately image. A huge sigh of relief escapes him upon discovering that no, the dreaded hat hair hasn't taken effect, his raven locks still as breathtaking as his bellybutton.
Above the spoon his grey eyes lift, pinching playfully at the corners when they meet that of Romie's dear, sweet violet.
"You are bloody lucky that—"
"That?" Romie prompts, head cocking a fraction. Inviting him for a challenge she's more than ready to win.
Sirius blows out a harsh breath, clocking something out of the corner of his eye that saves either his or Romie's skin. It couldn't be exactly certain whose.
"That Dumbles is doing his speech" He finishes, drawing the attention to the forefront of the Great Hall.
The wings, a regal metallic gold, of his owl lectern spread wide as the powerful wizard steadily approaches from behind, thanking Professor Mcgonagall for the hall babble halting goblet clink. Whilst Romie wants to tune out, take her bat home because she'd been left out of whatever it is they'd been requested in his office for, what made them incredibly late, she can't help but zone in. Especially when she notes how much he's physically aged. What looks like ten years in a ten months.
War. It's the price paid for engaging, fighting in war. The war that soon, Romie's friends, Romie's family will have zero protection from. No impenetrable castle's walls, no shielding supervisors, no do-overs. Head first into the deep end, they'll be thrown, in hopes to land on their own two feet. Entering the real adult world is scary enough, let alone one that's falling into pieces as they speak.
Remus is caught by the element of surprise when, underneath the table, the hand that's gently resting on his sore knee is quickly grabbed into another. Gripped on tight like he's about to be ripped away with no plans of return. It's a move, a sentiment that's all too familiar, though the roles reversed.
He'd gripped her hand like this the night prior to boarding the Hogwarts express for the very first time, scared of his baby sister being out in the world without him. Now it's Romie doing the gripping, scared of him being out in the world without her. The dark, cruel world where unspeakable things happen. Are happening.
He softens considerably, sandwiching the dainty hand of hers between his own. Holding, protecting his sense of purpose, his motivation to keep being, his definition of the whole world in his hands. And it feels like a promise, easing the worry eating away at Romie's insides. Because Remus is the only constant in her life, always there without fail, showing up for her no matter what. Past, present and future. Who she can deeply, wholeheartedly trust.
Remus and Sirius.
The list's that long, and Romie won't make the mistake of thinking otherwise again.
"Another year gone, and what a year it's been! For some of you, the beginning of an adventure, for some of you, the end"
Throughout the hall, smiles are exchanged. The first years, giddy and excited, promised the memorable years the seventh years are nostalgically looking back on now with the friends made along the way.
"But I want you to remember this, the end of a journey means the start of another one" Dumbledore states, the familiar twinkle in his blue eyes popping by to say hello.
His gaze wanders over the heads of his students, lingering on the group surrounding Romie. Something in her stomach sinks when he does what can only be described as a wink, not liking one bit whatever's loosely indicated. Yes, it's probably for the best she isn't told the password to his office.
"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus; in fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and twenty six points"
Chin dipping over her shoulder, Romie spots Hestia amongst the badgers, smiling gently when her fingers lace together with Amelia Bones'.
"In third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and sixty nine points"
Snickers break out amongst the hall, at the deep root, being thrown disapproving looks from Mcgonagall, James Potter and Sirius Black. Their boyish grins slowly fade with anticipation when Dumbledore asks for a drumroll, numerous bangs and knocking on the tables filling the great room.
"With four hundred and thirteen points...Slytherin house"
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Gryffindor table, again, at the deep root, the pair rarely seen without the other, launching up from their seats, hands cupped around the mouth to amplify victory noise made for when Dumbledore finally announces,
"Which means, with four hundred and sixteen points, Gryffindor win the house cup!"
A clap of hands and the neutral hangings decorating the walls transform into scarlet and gold, the towering, brave lion belonging to the house replacing the central bold H for Hogwarts. To their feet, everyone springs, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw too, elated for the House deserving of their second win.
Too risky it would be for the serpents automatically deemed rivals to show their support, remaining still in their seats. Lightly tapping his right foot on the floor, Regulus watches as their hats are tossed up high into the sky bewitched to look like the night sky, watches as Romie's head throws back, laughter that he'd quite like to be responsible for bubbling out of her throat.
Watches as Sirius, light and free, throws his arms around who, if asked, he'd instantly, without thinking twice, introduce as his brother. The end of his adventure at Hogwarts and the start of another one. Another one that the possibility is astronomically high won't include Regulus.
Regulus hates the Welcoming Feast.
He absolutely despises the End of Year Feast.
——————
Happy Easter!!