“James, I Swear To Merlin—” The Words Were More A Resigned Groan Than A True Threat, Though Remus

where: three broomsticks who: open

Spencer sat down at the bar and ordered his drink. It was a much needed escape after yet another lecture from his father. He sat there for a minute, his head resting against the bar with his eyes closed, trying to block out all the noise. He just needed a minute of peace, a minute to himself. But before it even got to thirty seconds, he felt someone take a seat next to him. Spencer gave a heavy sigh.

"You could go away right now and make this easier on both of us," he said before finally opening his eyes.

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!!

“Enchantments is a mature and understanding partner,” Remus said solemnly, though his lips twitched. “It knows I have other interests. Broader horizons. It supports me in my pursuit of diverse intellectual stimulation.” He leaned back slightly, cradling the muggle book protectively against his chest as James’ curiosity flared. “It's called The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and it's about one of the best detectives in the world,” Remus said as he adjusted his grip on the leather-bound book. “And for your information, Holmes doesn’t judge me for my divided attention. He’s far too busy solving mysteries and being clever.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at James. “Unlike some people who barge in uninvited and disrupt perfectly peaceful afternoons.”

“Invited,” Remus scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You call being dragged by the ankle out of the library ‘invited’? That’s a very loose interpretation of the word, Prongs.”

Still, the elbow to his side drew a reluctant smile, even if Remus tried his best to roll his eyes in response. “Fine. Moony and Prongs Take on the Outdoors—though I’m reserving the right to rewrite the title when this inevitably ends in chaos. I’ll have something like, ‘Two Idiots and the Consequences of Their Actions’ in mind.”

He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, though his body language was more resigned than enthusiastic. “You do realize that ‘expanding my mind’ doesn’t have to involve reckless spontaneity, right? It could involve, I don’t know, sitting quietly by the lake. Or bird-watching. Or—Merlin forbid—letting me finish my book in peace.”

Remus gave James a pointed look as he watched him dig through his sheets for his wand. “Honestly, how you ever manage to keep track of anything is a mystery.” His voice was dry, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

And then James burst through the door like a whirlwind of enthusiasm, dragging him along in his wake. Remus barely managed to snatch his cardigan from the back of a chair as they went, muttering under his breath.

“Fine,” he called after James with mock exasperation. “But I’m counting these five minutes, and if I end up covered in mud—or worse—I’m hexing you.”

Despite the grumbling, Remus couldn’t quite suppress the faint smile creeping across his face. James was impossible, but he was also James. And that, frustrating as it was, made all the difference.

James had to fight back the laughter that pulled his lips into a smile, knowing if it made its way passed his lips, he'd lose his bargaining power with Moony. "Of course," he began when he'd effectively banished the urge, "your romantic coffee date with Enchantments for the Moderately Ambitious yesterday slipped my mind." He pulled his head back to get a better view of the muggle novel Remus was so enamoured by. "Does Enchantments know you're being unfaithful?" His lip curved into a smirk. "What's so alluring about this muggle book, anyway?" A brow raised, genuinely curious, since he wasn't able to glance the title of the thing. He was no purveyor of muggle fiction, although he had learned of its existence in muggle studies at some point. And he was certain he'd seen Lily carrying very non-wizard tomes throughout the years.

"That is an unfair comparison!" James protested. "Padfoot's bad ideas are always a good use of my time. And, if I recall correctly, you were invited. And thus, it was not neglect." He crossed his arms and a small nod punctuated the comment.

"I'll have you know I put a great amount of effort into entertaining myself. I just happen to enjoy company. Some people enjoy doing things with their bestest of best friends." He elbowed Remus in the side. "Besides, who would read a book about poor, old James Potter stuck inside on a bloody gorgeous day... when they could read: Moony and Prongs taking on the outdoors!" James exclaimed, though relented: "Okay, the title needs work - but that's why you're part of the story."

Upon Moony's agreement, James practically jumped off the bed, falling backwards to the floor and scrambling to get up before his friend even considered changing his mind. "Absolutely no quidditch... or wrestling. Yes, sir!" The dark-haired wizard saluted, smile plastered onto his face. Now the only conundrum was what they could do.

Seeing hesitation begin to cloud Remus' judgement, James grabbed him by the arm to tug him onto his feet. "Nope. You said yes - you have to expand your mind now." Admittedly, he didn't have a plan on what yet but he was sure it would come to him within the next 5 minutes. There were countless things they could do both on and off campus. "Besides, using the levitation charm on Sirius gave us some great new intel! It was absolutely benficial." He grinned. "Regardless of the... hitches."

James fished for his wand, which had gotten lost somewhere in his own bedsheets. He definitely needed to start leaving it in easily accessible places. But that was future James' problem. "Moony and Prongs take on the outdoors!" The wizard exclaimed, door bursting open as he did so. James, who hadn't bothered to remove his shoes when he entered the dorm the last time, hadn't even considered that Remus might need time to prepare. He looked back.

where: borgin and burkes who: open

It was captivating—a sudden, irresistible urge to touch the object. Her hand had reached up, the pad of her forefinger mere inches away, when the chime of the doorbell jolted her back.

Dark magic.

A sinister smile played across her features as she turned toward the sound of approaching footsteps. "I wouldn’t..." She had been seconds away from cautioning them against touching it when a new idea took shape. "Or," she said with a sly gesture toward the candlestick holder, "you could touch it. I’m curious to see what might happen if someone does."

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."

Mary glanced up from her scattered papers, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Oh, James,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, “your dedication to academics is truly inspiring. If only we could all plop into chairs and absorb knowledge through sheer proximity to textbooks.”

She leaned back slightly, arms crossing over her chest as she regarded him with mock seriousness. “What is it, you ask? Well, if you must know, it’s an attempt at deciphering the unfathomable mystery that is Professor Flitwick’s latest assignment. Something about wand movements and their effects on nonverbal incantations.” She gestured vaguely at the jumble of notes before her, letting out a dramatic sigh.

Mary’s gaze flickered over him, noting the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “But enough about me and my noble struggles. What about you, Potter? Come to offer your wisdom, or are you just taking a break from terrorizing our peers and lecturers?”

"Oh, just studying ever so rigorously." James said, plopping down into the seat opposite from her. "Really, can't get enough of it." His forearms rested on the table in front of him and he leaned forward. Looking down at the books and pieces of parchment that littered the desk in front of Mary, he grinned slightly. "Not to give you an advantage or anything," he began, "but the best-laid coursework usually requires quill to parchment."

He sat back, leaning comfortably against the wooden backrest of the seat. "What is it, anyway?" Although James Potter thought himself rather skilled in the art of reading upside down, he wasn't about to intrude on another student's own writings. Well, not a students beyond their group of Marauders, anyway. He did have more self-control than that. Still, he was curious what had been so dull to force Mary's thoughts into the abyss of the bookshelves she'd been staring vacantly at.

someone: you're pretentious

me, sprawled out on a bed of roses, reading oscar wilde and sipping champagne: oh?

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 tag dump }