ASLIHAN MALBORA Via Instagram

Narcissa’s lips twitched, the barest flicker of amusement threatening to break her practised poise. She tilted her head, her pale hair catching the soft glow of the light, and regarded James with the kind of cool detachment reserved for overly eager performers.

"Ah, yes," she began, her tone a perfect blend of dryness and sharpness, "your happy helping of arrogance, recklessness, and that unyielding Gryffindor optimism. A truly baffling concoction. It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far without collapsing under the weight of it all."

She closed her book with a deliberate slowness, letting the pause linger just long enough to keep him guessing. When she spoke again, her voice was softer but no less cutting, with an edge carefully hidden beneath her smooth delivery. "You’re fortunate, James. Most wouldn’t tolerate such impudence. But then, I suspect you’ve always counted on your audacity to carry you through. I hear you have a knack for landing on your feet—no matter how recklessly you leap."

Her gaze briefly caught his, the faintest flicker of something teasing glinting in her eyes before she glanced at the book. She ran a finger along its spine, as if reminding herself that she had far better uses for her time, though the smirk playing at her lips suggested otherwise. "As for my reading," she said, her voice now laced with mockery, "it’s hardly the sort of thing you’d grasp easily. Some pursuits, after all, require more than sheer determination and an oversized grin."

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms with the grace of someone who knew exactly how to command attention without asking for it. After a brief pause, her smirk deepened, a glimmer of amusement finally betraying her mask of indifference.

"Still," she continued, her voice lowering ever so slightly, "do feel free to keep trying to amuse me, James. Who knows? One of these days, you might even succeed."

With that, she reopened her book, her expression calm and composed, though her eyes betrayed the faintest spark of intrigue—a sign, perhaps, that she found him far more entertaining than she’d ever admit.

James grinned, large and proud. It was the kind of grin that could disarm or infuriate, depending on the other person. Although knowing the blonde before him, he anticipated the latter, but ever optimist, James thought today might just be the day she would surprise him. Still, he didn't shy away from a challenge, so he settled into what was now his seat with warmth. He wouldn't have joined Narcissa had he bothered to look (and would make a note to do so next time), but as it happened, he was willing to ride the wave today. And most others, if he was honest.

"Well, good morning to you too, Narcissa," he said brightly. The juxtaposition between their tones might've been jarring without context. "I see you've been working on that winning personality of yours. That's an E for Exceeds Expectations. Keep it up and you might just earn that O you've been vying for."

James' eyes moved to the book as she placed it, with purpose, on the table before them. Pulled away from it by her continued line of questioning, he peered up at her again. James wasn't sure whether he'd rather dodge her curses or her questions. But, ever the good sport, he plowed on ahead. "Oh, how well you know me. Let's say it's a happy helping of all three." He raised his brows a moment, his bright smile still plastered onto his lips. "Besides, you know you secretly live for these little interruptions of mine."

James leaned in again, eyeing the book. "So, what is it today? A gripping tale about the trials and triumphs of good, old-fashioned wizarding families? Or a thrilling essay on the remarkable allure of whatever shade of emerald you'll no doubt be wearing to Sluggie's Christmas Party?"

Mary raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “You thrive in chaos? I’d never have guessed, Black,” she quipped, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “And here I was thinking you were the poster boy for order and discipline.”

Her gaze flicked over to the window where the moonlight spilled in, painting the room in silvery hues. “As for me,” she continued, fixing him with an amused look, “I was actually enjoying the quiet—something you seem determined to disrupt. But I suppose it’s hard to expect peace when Sirius Black is on the prowl, keeping lonely ghosts company and all.”

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand, her smirk deepening. “Skipping essays for mayhem, though? Tempting offer. Care to elaborate on the mayhem, or is it the type of thing one just needs to go with the flow?” Her eyes sparkled with intrigue.

Sirius leaned against the edge of the table, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Well, you know me, McDonald. I thrive in the chaos of the night," he replied, his voice smooth and teasing. "Besides, someone’s got to keep the ghosts company. They can get a bit lonely, you see."

He glanced around the dimly lit room, then returned his attention to her, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And what about you? Lost in the depths of coursework or just enjoying the quiet? I’d like to think it’s the latter, but then again, I’ve never been one for schoolwork. How about we skip the essays and cause a bit of mayhem instead?”

Narcissa watched him closely, her eyes softening as the silence stretched between them. She recognized the rigidity in his posture, the carefully measured control of his tone, and the weight that clung to his words. She had seen it often enough before—not just in Regulus, but in herself. They all carried their burdens differently, but they carried them nonetheless.

"Yes," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "We do all carry the weight of it. And we all make our choices." She stepped closer, not intruding but bridging the distance slightly, her gaze steady and kind. "But that doesn’t mean the weight is yours alone to bear, Regulus."

Her hand brushed lightly against the edge of the shelf, a gesture that felt more reflexive than deliberate. "I know that Sirius' absence has cost you," she added gently, her words careful, a subtle acknowledgment without pressing too far. "And I know how much you’ve had to shoulder since then, but you're not alone."

Narcissa let the words settle before offering him a small, almost wistful smile. "It’s not an easy thing to reconcile, is it? Being a Black and being... ourselves." Her tone softened further, almost conspiratorial. "But I’ve always believed you see more clearly than most of us, Regulus. Perhaps even more than you let yourself admit. Whatever choices you make, I hope you trust yourself enough to make them fully."

She paused, giving him a moment before continuing. "You don’t have to answer me," she said, her smile faint but warm. "But if you ever wanted to talk—not about Sirius, not about the family, just... about you—I’m here."

Listening to her words, Regulus pressed his lips together as though in thought. His mind flickered briefly to the doubts that tugged at him in private moments, but he pushed them down, as he always did. There was nothing more devastating than allowing them to the surface, especially in the company of his family. Even Narcissa.

"Perhaps," he agreed, his tone tight, deliberately controlled. It didn't betray the conflict that swirled beneath it, but his posture was a little too rigid, his gaze still fixed on the room’s decor as though it could somehow anchor him. When ready, after allowing the silence to stretch a beat too long, his gaze returned to Narcissa. "Regardless, it's representative." This wasn't said with resentment, only finality. It was a mere truth.

What suits the family. Regulus thought that perhaps Narcissa was right, but for the wrong reasons. Regulus wasn't going to pretend he was the perfect male heir for the black family. Sirius would have been much better in those shoes, in theory. But as far as what was good for the family... Perhaps he knew better than his cousins, than his parents on that front. The Black family - sacred twenty-eight and a legacy that spanned generations. Yet, bowing to the Dark Lord. Servants. He wouldn't dare speak those thoughts. He barely dared to think them. "We all carry the weight of being a Black. Whether we thrive in the limelight or the shadows."

Her comment about his brother caused him to tense even moreso. He exhaled through his nose, a sharp sound that could’ve been a laugh. Could've. The topic of his brother would forever be a sore spot. It had been years, but none of those years apart could erase the memories they did have together. The years had stained them, warped them, and repurposed them... But, Regulus couldn't help but long for something that could never be. He glanced at her briefly, then away again. Narcissa was aware, likely more than anyone, of what his brother's departure had meant for Regulus. Though even she hadn't been told of the full weight of it. Reg's tight-lipped nature was not a new phenomenon. "We all make our choices." The words were clipped, too final, as if daring her to press further. He wasn’t willing to discuss his brother with her, not now—not ever, perhaps. Not when he wasn't sure of where his own loyalties stood.

LET HER DO IT!!

Mary arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching into an amused smirk as she watched James adopt his regal pose. “Osmosis, is it?” she repeated, her tone dripping with mock reverence. “I had no idea we were in the presence of such a pioneer of unorthodox study techniques. Truly, the textbooks will sing of your methods for generations, Potter.”

At his mention of the Flirting Glow Charm, Mary snorted softly, shaking her head. “You know, James, the fact that you know about a Flirting Glow Charm speaks volumes. Was that from one of those textbooks you so rarely grace with your attention, or are we venturing into your field research?”

Her grin widened as she watched him wink and lean back. “Breaks, you say? Of course. A cornerstone of brilliance. I’ll be sure to cite you in my footnotes. James Potter, Esq., Champion of Distraction and Master of Breaktaking. It has quite the scholarly ring to it, don’t you think?”

As he sprawled out on the table, Mary tapped her quill against her parchment in exaggerated thought. “Inspiration, hmm? Careful, Potter, too much exposure to true genius might overwhelm you. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you feeling the sudden urge to actually pick up a quill. Might ruin your reputation.” She shot him a teasing smile, before turning back to her notes, though the humour still danced in her eyes.

"Many wish to embody dedication as I do. Few actually achieve such heights." James straightened up, adopting an almost kingly posture as he spoke. "It's really quite the skill - the osmosis. I could teach it to you, but only some of us have the knack." He said, flashing a daring smile. "I'll have you know that I do occasionally read the textbooks - if I fancy it."

James nodded along as though enraptured by the subject. In truth, he'd long ago thought it unnecessary to write about the correct form when practicing magic - charms or not. Surely practical experience was the better method of testing such things. Nevertheless, it seemed that parchment did in fact grown on trees and their professors were absolutely going to use that as a way to torture them. "Important stuff, that. You know one wrong flick of the wrist and your Flirting Glow Charm can go devastatingly off course." He pointed at the notes. "Glad you're taking it so seriously."

"Oh, you can never have too many breaks, MacDonald. That's when the magic happens." He winked before sitting back in his chair again. "Consider that my sage advice." Running a hand through his hair, his gaze moved around the library for a moment, darting between bookshelves and across tables. He slid down onto the table, giving up whatever quest his eyes had been on, and rested his head on top of his hands. "Perhaps I'll sit and gain inspiration from what is no doubt a essay worthy of the next edition of A Charmed Mind: Essays of the Enchanted Arts."

AIRPLANE! (1980) dir. David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, Jerry Zucker

Spencer’s initial reaction was to stiffen slightly at the sight of another person, his usual instinct to ward off company. But then, realising it was Regulus, he sighed softly and offered a faint, begrudging nod—an acknowledgment that didn’t quite extend into warmth but wasn’t outright dismissal either.

“Regulus,” he said, tone even as he moved his glass aside. “Suit yourself. Just don’t expect much conversation out of me tonight. Long day.”

He gestured vaguely at the stool beside him, the barest flicker of an olive branch. As the bartender approached, Spencer added, “Though if you’re here for the Wizards Brew, avoid the draught on tap—it’s gone off.”

Chatter whirled around him in the small space, alcohol clinging to both furniture and clientele alike. Regulus, for his part, was not intending on adding to the middling hum of the establishment. Regulus had once thought that the Three Broomsticks would be less busy when they were able to come and go as they pleased, but it seems that Hogsmeade mandated days were not the only time the place remained busy.

Heading towards the bar, he'd barely had time to recognise the familiar figure before the man was telling him to leave. "I could." He said, settling down at the bar to order his own drink. "Or I could agree not to bother you and sit down regardless."

Alecto's smirk lingered, but her hand dropped gracefully to her side, the movement deliberate. "Wise of you to assume I’d risk it," she replied, her voice smooth, almost mocking. "I know better than to let curiosity get me killed."

Her gaze flicked to the object, dark and tempting, before locking onto Regulus with a sharp intensity. "Not all of us are foolish enough to play with fire when we don’t know how it burns."

She took a step back, her expression cold but calculating. "But I’ll give you this—sometimes the best way to learn is to let someone else make the mistake."

Regulus stopped to look at the witch, his sharp gaze flickering between the object and her outstretched hand. "You might be looking to sate your curiosity, but I'm not willing to be your cat." There was no denying that the dark urge of the object was overpowering. However, Regulus had learned already that some things were better left untouched and unexplored. The argument for seeing what it could do was intriguing, for no other reason than the seductive pull of magic. But it was a distraction from his actual task. "By all means, offer your own paw."

Mary’s eyes narrowed with an air of mock seriousness, her quill twirling idly between her fingers. Maybe I’ll try it. Though, if it fails me, I’ll be sure to cite you in my impending howler to Professor McGonagall.”

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table as her grin widened. “Improper use of a charm, you say? Chaos? Potter, you’re against chaos?” She arched a brow, smirking. “If you’re against chaos, then I’m the Minister of Magic.”

At his dramatic display of being wounded, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, forgive me, James. I underestimated your reputation as an academic prodigy. Of course, you’ve picked up a quill before—how else would you have signed all those detentions?” She propped her chin in her hand, her expression filled with feigned thoughtfulness. “Though, I imagine those are more co-signatures than solo ventures because no doubt Sirius, Remus and Peter were involved too.”

Her grin softened at his chuckle, though the teasing didn’t falter. “Still, you might be right. If you really applied yourself, the sheer brilliance of it all might collapse Hogwarts under the weight of your genius. I’d never get any studying done with McGonagall fainting in the halls, Remus sulking in the corner, and, worst of all, me having to admit that James Potter actually impressed me.”

She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So, for the good of wizarding society, I agree—stick to the practicals. That way, the rest of us can keep up without your monumental brilliance overshadowing us.” The glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement as she picked up her quill and turned back to her parchment, though not without a final teasing glance his way.

"Exactly." A smile followed the tipping of his head, almost as though he was taking his crown off to her. "Why waste time flipping through pages upon pages when you can simply exist near the knowledge?" His gaze levelled with hers. "It's worked wonders for me. Really cleared up my schedule."

"As mentioned," James said, the whisp of a smile on his lips, "Osmosis helps you learn many things. Though I would advise against improper use of such a charm. It would cause chaos, I believe." He nodded his head as if to approve of his own point. "And we both know I am adamantly against chaos." Truthfully, he couldn't see what good the use of a flirting glow charm would have - much less have any reason to use it. It was a similar tactic to amortentia, which just did not work. Would you ever feel happy with the result?

"A very prestigious reference, that. Bound to propel you to an O." Those titles sat pretty well with James, if he was honest. "Scholarly indeed. I'll have to officially adopt those titles."

James propped himself up on one elbow, leaning against the table and feigning a look of utmost distress. “Mary, you wound me,” he drawled, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "I've been known to pick up a quill or two in my time." He cocked his head. "But it is better done as little as possible. Chaos ensues, even with my best intentions." Fingers tapped against the desk. "Professors fainting from the sheer academic brilliance, Remus disowning me out of frustration, you having to admit you're impressed." A low chuckle filled the otherwise quiet library. "No, better to stick to the practicals where possible." He smiled, leaning back and running a hand through his already mussed hair.

Where: The Hogwarts University library Who: Open to all

Leaning back in her chair, her thoughts far away from anything to do with the pile of coursework in front of her, Mary sat up when she became aware of another person approaching the table she was sitting at. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was long past clocking out time for most.

"What are you still doing here?" She asked with a small smile. "Everyone's usually gone by now."