Chapter Text
The night stretched out long, studying, reading, a few games of chess with Dorcas, until it was finally time to go to bed. And that he couldn’t.
After tossing and turning, and nearly falling out of bed once, Regulus decided to go to the common room and read some poetry. He was met with Pandora sitting on the floor painting, she tended to do that when she couldn’t sleep.
“Archie!” Pandora looked up eagerly from her canvas, motioning for Reg to sit down.
“Panda,” Regulus returned, leaning against her and opening his book.
They stayed like that for quite a while, sitting in comfortable silence, until Pandora spoke;
“Read to me, please, Reg.” Her voice was less enthusiastic now, more tired and calm.
Regulus flipped to the next page and began reading.
Icarus laughed when he fell
The sun shone down, casting his shadow across the ocean
The wax of his wings melted,
Burning and blazing away at his skin
And he laughed
He laughed as the wind blew through his hair
He laughed as the adrenaline roared through his veins
He laughed in his final moments,
Final breaths taken,
Final views gazed upon,
He found glory,
before it all came crashing down.
Pandora began painting again, and Reg finally looked up.
“It’s a sunset,” he stated, appalled. Pandora’s paintings were always so beautiful, but this one seemed more enthralling.
“I knew you’d like it.” She sighed without lifting her brush. “I painted this because of you, something’s been different with you, Archie. The past few days.” Pandora had a talent for reading people, so much so that the people she read didn’t even know they’d written anything.
“Really?” Regulus questioned.
“Yeah,” Pandora confirmed, while setting her pallet down and turning towards him. “Something’s troubling you, how you feel. There’s someone, you just don’t know it yet. You’ll figure it out, and rays of sun will shine on your face when you do.”
Pandora seemed to be getting tired, she got more poetic when she was sleepy, rather than her batshit crazy self. That was part of the reason Reg loved late night talks with her, as much as he loved utterly insane Pandora, softer, calmer Pandora was nice too. Not many people saw her like that.
Regulus pulled her up from the floor and lead her to the couch. They lied down, snuggled together on the cushions.
“Tu es adorèe,” Reg spoke softly, his voice echoing through the room, as he ran his hands through Panda’s cream braids, and they were both lulled to sleep.
They did this a lot, pressing together on an armchair or couch in the common room and falling asleep in the familiar position. Pandora always said, as they lied chest to chest, Reg’s head tucked into the crook of her neck, that their souls were intertwining.
Regulus liked that thought.
—
The next morning Regulus awoke alone on the couch, Pandora had gotten up and began painting on the floor once again.
“Have any nice dreams?” She asked him as he sat up and ruffled his hair. Damn it, he forgot to take off his binder before going to bed.
“Nothing too interesting,” He replied. It was only him and Pandora in the common room, so he quickly pulled off his binder and put a baggy jumper on. He’d be in that the rest of the day.
After a small pause of thinking, Regulus corrected himself.
“Well, I suppose I did have one dream.”
“Do tell, Archie,” Pandora asked, dipping her brush into a cup of water.
“It was about James Potter. I’ve never dreamt of him before. It was strange,” He sighed, sitting back down on the couch. “We were friends. I was watching a quidditch game that he was playing. Or maybe it was a practice? I don’t remember, but after he won, he ran up to me on the stands and kissed me. Then I woke up.”
Regulus looked perplexed at the dream. He hated James Potter. He hated James Potter. Definitely. Probably.
“That’s interesting, Reg.” Pandora looked up at him, smiling. “You never know when dreams might become reality.” And she went upstairs to get dressed.
Reg was left sitting on the couch by himself. What time it was, he had no clue, but he was hungry enough to go to the great hall and hopefully get breakfast.
Thankfully it was around 8 o’clock in the morning, meaning food, but also meanings people. Especially meaning James Potter after quidditch practice. When he walked in his eyes immediately drifted toward the Gryffindor table and lied upon the boy. He was drenched in sweat, hair falling in his face and glasses slightly askew. He was…
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
James Potter was undeniably attractive and there was nothing Regulus could do to change that, nor the way he viewed him. But he would try his darn best to, because he was not about to have a crush on his brother’s best friend.