ACT ONE; CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ADVICE
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LOVE AND RELATIONSHIPS were all well and good to be around when you weren't wishing you were in the same boat as you sat, picking on a treacle tart, watching them rather than sailing. Sadly, that was Eleanor's life during the Yule Ball. She'd never not enjoyed the event – even the year before which occurred just after the breakup she had with Jordan Rickson – and she was desperately trying to keep that streak.
Which, admittedly, was working to some extent. The relationships she was around, as much as they made her heart ache on the inside, brought a smile on the outside. To see all her friends like that, knowing how much they deserved it, was something she couldn't help but smile at even when she was sad. From Pandora and Xeno dancing alongside Lily and James, both couples staring lovingly at their other half or laughing over a joke, to the hands held in between Sirius and Remus as they commentated their friends' nights.
One day, she hoped to have the same thing. Somebody to adore, to laugh with, to share conversations meant for them alone. Having Pandora and Kelsie was everything to Eleanor and she wouldn't trade them for all the chances for love in the world but even they knew that true romantic love was something entirely different than the true love they shared. Eleanor hoped she'd get it as Pandora had, almost as much as she hoped Kelsie would get another chance.
When she began to wonder who Kelsie's second chance could be with – a task set to keep Eleanor's mind functioning on something more practical than sad emotions inducing – she caught sight of a blur occupying one of the many empty seats on her table. At first, she thought the body was owned by the girl she was thinking of and was about to make a remark about thinking of the devil. It was when she remembered Kelsie's dress was not purple and she didn't use her Metamorphmagus abilities for anything... let alone to produce a beard Gandalf would envy at a public event.
As Eleanor stared at Headmaster Albus Dumbledore incredulously, he smiled and said, "Good evening, Miss Archord."
Not many times had Eleanor been in conversation with her Headmaster. The few times it did happen most memorably included when the Order of the Phoenix had been outed to him and he spoke to each known member individually. Before that discussion, Eleanor had rather admired the old man who had never outwardly done anything bad to her specifically – she had always been willing to overlook the bias that led to Slytherin being unfairly treated. Afterwards was when her criticism of him began, mostly surrounding the War.
The way he acted seemed to express his belief that people were expendable and that expressed a similar stance as Voldemort's opinions. Eleanor wasn't dumb or a particularly optimistic person, she knew that in war people died, but she also knew that they shouldn't be sacrificed. Somehow she found herself wondering if Dumbledore agreed with her or if he only cared about somebody if it benefited him. With that thought, she speculated if that was why he cared so much when those people he allowed to die did just that.
"Hello Professor." She said anyway, as politely as she could muster, turning back to the dancefloor.
"Tonight is going well, wouldn't you say? I notice your friends have fell under the charms this dance seems to produce. I always find it interesting to watch young love unfold in tonight's events."
"Everybody is really enjoying themselves." Eleanor responded truthfully.
"Yet you are not."
Again, her eyes turned back to him. The warmth he expressed from his kind face that donned sparkling eyes to the posture of his stance, always welcoming, was one of the reasons a young Eleanor had admired him. Whispers of his power erupted the Great Hall every welcoming back feast yet there was never a hint of that in his appearance. When his voice met your ears you knew though, there was no way you couldn't believe he was one of the most powerful wizards when his wise tone spoke to your soul.
Those Slytherin characteristics that fizzled in her being had envied that ability. Which was part of the reason her own tone shifted when she spoke to the Professor, as if she was older than sixteen and had seen worse than simply mourning faces. "I'm just preoccupied."
"Is there anything I can help with?" Dumbledore questioned gently. Slytherin's either wore their heart on their sleeve or feelings are in the hardest to penetrate vault the world had ever seen, there was simply no in between. At that moment, being unable to help it, her distrust of the man flashed on her face and he let out a saddened sigh. "I'm aware of your varied opinions of me, Miss Archord. Regardless of them, I think very highly of you – you are a good person, a talented Quidditch player and a powerful witch."
"Thank you, Sir, but I don't think badly of you."
The man's eyes twinkled and his mouth let a small and sad smile appear. "Just of my decisions."
Eleanor's mouth gaped for a moment before she mimicked his grin. "I don't like to lie so it's probably better for me not to respond."
"You do remind me of two people I used to know. Like them, I'm sure you will internally roll your eyes when hearing my ramblings of advice. Alas I cannot help it. Life is short, as you sadly know all too well, and we mustn't spend it doubting ourselves. If every ounce of your being is telling you something then you must listen because, chances are, you'll be right. I hope that for you, Miss Archord, I hope you are always right and true."
"May I ask why you're telling me this?" Eleanor asked, her voice quieter than it had ever been before. Many times she'd been told things that had shocked her to the point of her voice shaking but this was a different feeling. She wasn't shocked, it was almost like realisation but not quite – either way, she couldn't put her finger on how to describe it.
"I suppose you looked like somebody who wished for some advice. Forgive me if I'm wrong."
"No, thank you, Professor." She quickly replied, increasing his smile. A part of her wanted to inform him that her opinion of him remained firm, but she decided to let him have a small victory for the night. Time would tell if the conversation would have any real impact between them but Eleanor, who valued actions over advice, doubted it. And, thinking of actions, she stood up and dusted the treacle tart crumbs from her lap as she did. "If you excuse me, I have to go."
Seeming to notice the crumbs, Dumbledore reached for one of the remaining ones that laid forgotten on the plate, pausing for Eleanor to give him the all clear which he received in nod form. She had to admit, she found him amusing on occasions. That occasion was cut short when he spoke again before eating his treacle tart, "May I ask if you're heeding my advice?"
"I'm getting a second opinion." Eleanor corrected, then left the Hall in a hurried fashion, yet still managing to glide across the floor elegantly. That was something Dumbledore admired about her, he thought as he tucked into his treat, but he was sure that Eleanor Archord would add more things to that list soon enough. At least, if what he had been told was true... but those were thoughts for after festivities and feasts, he reminded the cogs working overtime in his brain.
On her hunt for the one person she knew would be free for a chat that didn't own a magnificent beard last time she saw her and was deadpan honest, Eleanor bumped into a Ravenclaw girl she knew during the days of Jordan Rickson. Her pale lips that matched her tight dress announced that Kelsie Selwyn had been spotted by her own eyes in the next hallway. With her search suddenly made easier, she thanked the girl and headed that way.
As luck wouldn't have it, Eleanor's seemed to be running out of the limited batch that she owned because Kelsie seemed to have disappeared. Picking up her skirt, Eleanor deeply sighed to show the gods her discontent and continued her search. Not long after she begun it again was her arm gently grabbed and her body suddenly spun so she landed in arms that fit perfectly to spring her into dance with music that was enchanted to play softly in the hallways surrounding the Ball.
Not a single part of her was shocked to lift her head to lock eyes with Regulus and she jokingly rolled her eyes at his smug grin. "That was smooth."
"Thank you," He replied, voice as quiet as she didn't realise hers was but, with bodies so close, it was only natural. "Why are you wandering the hallways and not dancing with some lucky loser in there?"
"I'm looking for Kelsie." Eleanor stated. What she'd expected was her mouth to let out a smart remark in response to his comment about her dancing with somebody else but it never came.
Apparently, he seemed to be waiting for it too. When the pause became too long to tack anything on the end of her statement, he shook his head to hide his smile. If her breath hadn't already locked itself in her throat forbidding her remark, it definitely did then. Unlike his brother, Regulus' best friend wasn't gobs of Fleamont Potter's Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, even though he did use it, so it allowed his hair to wisp around. Not as absently as her thoughts had once been, she wondered what it would feel like to run her hand through it. Soft, she bet herself.
"Funnily enough, I'm looking for Kelsie too. I figured she'd be the one of two people who wasn't busy dancing who I could talk about what I said to you earlier." The boy explained once his eyes met hers again. "The other was Severus and I doubt he'd stand two minutes without Hexing me into next year."
"Not too far to go." Eleanor remarked lamely. She rolled her eyes at herself and repeated the action at his eyebrow raise – they both knew she could do better. Instead of having a second go, Eleanor straightened herself up in hope to give herself more confidence before she spoke. "I'm not dancing with anybody but you, why don't you talk to me?"
Biting his lip, he somewhat prevented his smirk. "Do you really think you can listen without cutting me off for once, Archord?"
Like he apparently was, Eleanor thought back on all their arguments. In all of her arguments with anybody, really, she would find it impossible to keep her brows stuck down and face not wide in angered shock before sliding her words in after they said something she regarded as wrong. Most of the time it was when a Slytherin brought up their War and Voldemort related opinions but she was pretty sure she had cut Regulus off for not enjoying the works of Robert Louis Stevenson once or twice too.
Still, as innocently as she could muster, she smiled up at the adoring eyes of the boy who would've admitted anything no matter her response thanks to that look. "No harm in me trying."
He nodded once and there was a small silence as he spun her around in time with the music that flooded the hall. From mindless observance and knowledge due to knowing him for years, she knew that he could dance so well because the House of Black couldn't bare the thought of one of their children not owning every skill known to mankind. Still, it didn't prevent her marvelling at his flawless actions that even countered her own stumbling ones before the skill time of the dance faded away back to their original swaying.
"I remember the first time I saw you so clearly." Regulus began, possibly using the confidence of his dancing to support him – Eleanor used to do that after Quidditch matches. "Your hair was braided on both sides and, back then, you was actually taller than me which could be the most shocking thing in this entire situation."
"Reg, be serious." The girl scolded despite the amusement that hinted her tone.
Unlike her, he didn't try to hide it and let out a small chuckle. "Back then, you only referred to me as Black. Like you religiously only referred to me as it, I think once you even pretended not to know who Avery was talking about when he called me Regulus. It was in third year that you finally called me by my first name, no matter how sarcastic it was. But my last name was the first thing you said to me that day we met, in that cocky tone you do with your head tilted when you want to pick a fight – I guess some things never change."
Recalling the memory fondly, Eleanor smiled and nodded before pulling on her perfected Regulus imitation. "And you said, 'and you are?'"
"'Eleanor Archord, of course.'" He imitated her in a way that made her roll her eyes but, like she described her portrayal of him, Regulus believed it was the most lifelike roleplay the world had ever witnessed. "Of course. The first thing, other than your braids and height, that I noticed about you was your last name. People who owned it were something of a hated celebrity in the houses I grew up in, I can only assume that you felt the same. So, the feeling in my stomach that occurred when I saw you, I simply assumed that it was the hatred I was supposed to feel. But then you weren't Sorted into Gryffindor and everybody's breath hitched but, looking back, none more so than mine. I guess the part of me that excels in Divination realised that everything hung on that decision. The rest of me though was admittedly a bit of an idiot."
"A bit?"
"I don't even think you're trying to just listen."
"I can't just listen to your blatant lies." Eleanor teased, grinning to assure him that she took everything he said seriously... apart from the last few words.
"Speaking of listening," Regulus emphasised, "you should know that I listened whenever you yelled at somebody in the Common Room who'd made a comment you disagreed with, even when it wasn't me. Not only did I listen but I—but I understood. It was you who made me realise, even if I didn't truly know it, that I wasn't like the others who donned the Mark. After I realised that and accepted it with Kelsie's hope, it didn't take me long to understand something else. From the moment I saw you, Eleanor Archord, I've liked you. Not just a you're-not-my-enemy-really kind of way or a you're-a-good-friend kind of way but the kind of way that makes my heart ache when you leave the room and the kind of way that makes me admire every single aspect of you – from your recklessness and intelligence to your fierce and beautiful looks."
For all she'd thought about it over the past few weeks of her life, Eleanor had never guessed how she'd feel when she heard Regulus truly say it. All her almost predictions ended up never finishing because her rambling thoughts would take her elsewhere. Now that it had happened she assumed her brain wouldn't let her guess because, even when it happened, she still didn't wholeheartedly know herself – or she didn't know how to describe it, more correctly. But there was no hint of anything dark inside her, and she trusted that as a good sign.
What there was definitely a hint of, though, was bravery. It seemed to have surged through their held hands from him to her since, any other time, even Eleanor Archord would've stuttered through admitting feelings. "I understand now that you felt this obligation because I did too. Now we know better, you've learnt from that and I've learnt from the losses I've witnessed. People are dying before they have a chance to experience the best magic of all: being with somebody worth living for. So, I suppose why should I waste what possibly little time we possibly have being alive because a few childish arguments? Ones that you have so easily explained, at that. Especially because I feel the same when I look at you and think about you. It came so suddenly yet so firmly that I can't deny it. I suppose what I'm trying to admit is that I like you too, Regulus Black."
There was a beat. "You don't have to say that if you don't mean it."
Before another beat could occur, she couldn't help it – she officially could not take it a second longer –, Eleanor Archord's lips crashed into Regulus Black's.
Unlike the last time, her mind wasn't on the taste of his lips (though, she would be telling him to keep investing in that lip balm) but on all the sensations she'd missed that first time and all the actions she'd craved since it. Her hands travelled the journey down his arms and up to his cheeks where they rested a moment as the stubble graced her fingers before she finally allowed herself to run her hands through his hair. Soft, just as she'd expected. Meanwhile his own hands were desperately tugging her closer, as if wanting to blend them in to one person – she wouldn't have minded.
Shockingly, this kiss that they both desired more than words could say was cut much shorter than the first that neither had anticipated to want. This was due to Regulus reluctantly pulling himself away and taking a step backwards, preventing the blending. Warmth from her taste, his lips parted as if to speak but he struggled to find the right words. To be honest to themselves, both knew they were struggling to do anything. After all, all their energy was being put into not continuing what had just begun.
"Are you sure?" Was what Regulus decided to ask eventually, voice suddenly very rough but still with that sense of adoring that she'd picked up on for weeks.
Once again closing the gap between them, Eleanor allowed her hands to rejoin the sides of his face. "There is a lot of things that I'm not sure about but I know that I'm happy right now with you."
"I'm willing to bet your not as happy as I am." His voice whispered, his eyes only her lips and his hands wrapped around her.
Grinning, she responded just as quietly. "I'm ecstatic."
Neither knew who begun the kiss then. They just knew that they were happy one of them did.
Regulus muttered against her lips, "Overjoyed."
"Merry."
"Gleeful." He hummed, pulling back for a split second them meeting her lips once again.
"Content."
"Satisfied." The boy mused.
There wasn't a second in between before Eleanor began to laugh and broke the kiss, leaning the top of her head on his shoulder as she chuckled heartily. "You're such a dork."
With the tip of his fingers, he pushed her chin up gently so she was looking at him with laughter still painted on her face. To him, in that moment, with wet lips, wide eyes and humour illumining every feature, she had never been more beautiful. Yet, he found himself thinking that every time he looked at her and he believed he would be in awe of her beauty until his dying breath.
This time, when his lips met hers, it was as gentle as his actions. As sudden as death, the thought of it had made him want to savour the moment more. However, when they began to stumble backwards and her back met the wall, the heat couldn't stay simply warm for long. Not that either of them minded, really.
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WORDS: 3364
um yeah i have a confession: i HATE writing kissing scenes. with a passion. they're just so cringey and there's really only so much you can say so it kind of gets repetitive. so if this sucks i did the best i could sorry xxxx
BUTTTTT i come back from a long break to give you the end of this "slow burn" (it was slow for me tbh). they're so soft and cute when they're together ugh i love. why did they ever hate each other?????? anyways this is my apology for taking so long to update but it's kind gonna be like this for a while since i'm starting a job and school is beginning again but you have my promise that i'll do my best!
don't forget to like and comment, love you all!