Chapter Text
Pandora looked across the common room to find Regulus engrossed in his studies. Drafting up his own astronomy chart whereas Barty tried to compete him with his own. She knew that right after dinner was Regulus’ tradition to complete class notes of tomorrow in advance.
Looking beside at Dorcas, she knew the girl beside her was unreachable when she was in a chess match with one of the second years.
Her only company left was a curious red journal that belonged to Regulus that was laying on the table so very vulnerable.
“Open at your own risk, Pandora,” Evan said while flipping through his bag of suspiciously overfilled since his evening trip to Honeydukes. “The last time I did; I needed to have a nice cup of chocolate to erase his strong statements towards innocent ducks,”
Pandora was bored anyway. She felt that nothing can compete to the time she was tormented by the amount of villywinks she felt from a seventh year hufflepuff. She reached for the surprisingly thin diary and flipped to the last entry that was this evening before dinner.
Sunday, January.
Had a cup of tea today. Tea bag exclusively from the pack that Barty acquainted me with last week. Out of Earl Grey, so experimented with the next; Peppermint & Creamy Vanilla. Which tastes exactly as it sounds. Just take out the Creamy vanilla part. It was only good when warm. Good is a generous adjective. Never try hot, prickly and attacks tip of tongue, peppermint. Its prominent when lukewarm. Would only have if I was having a less that worse day— to remind myself that there’s monstrosities out in the world worse than Barty (and the manor) to humble myself.
Chamomile was soft and amazing is an understatement.
Waiting for Earl Grey.
Tea was prickley and tastes like ginger peppermint if it ever existed.
Finish dinner
Read
Try not to lose sanity
Potions and arithmancy notes.
—Singed, R. Arcturus.
“Miss, I believe this belongs to me,” Regulus snatched the book away from Pandora and looked through the pages.
“oh you’re kind,” Pandora drawls sarcastically and moves the pillows around to make space for Regulus.
“Oh get over yourself, Dora. Evening tea was shite and I blame Barty,” he sighs and accepts when she offers him a candy she stole from her brother’s bag.
“Oh I think I know, Reg.” she tuts. “And stop saying ‘evening tea’, you sound like my grandmother Bluebell,”