MELORA

▙ a week later ▟

I've gotten used to my routine: walk to Transfiguration with Lily and Marlene, take my seat, and pretend I'm not overly aware of James sitting next to me. I'm beginning my second week at Hogwarts, three months left of the school year.

   I'm realizing how hard it is being around James, especially when I want to be his friend. I'm supposed to pretend to like him, become his friend, and betray him. And betray everyone when I kill him. He makes it so easy to want a genuine friendship with him.

Today is no different than any last week. I keep my eyes forward and try to listen as Professor McGonagall drones on about the "intricacies of advanced transformations." I can barely hear her, every sense has tuned onto him. The scratches of his quill against the page as he takes notes. The soft rustle as he shifts in his seat.

I'm supposed to watch and pay attention to him, for Voldemort, not for me. But it's impossible when he's this close to me. His arm brushes against mine as he stretches. Being near him makes me feel things I have no right to feel.

"Today, you will be working in pairs. Pair up with the person next to you." McGonagall announces. James turns to me, a familiar grin spread across his face. "Looks like we're up." He says. I try to suppress the warmth rising in my cheeks.

I smirk, "Indeed." I reply, steady even though my heart is racing. McGonagall tells us to transform a simple object into a more complex one. I turn to see Lily and Marlene turn a teacup into a tortoise. James leans over, "Let's see if you can manage to not turn this cup into a pile of mush." He teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

   I roll my eyes but can't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You're one to talk, Potter. Your last attempt was..." I widen my eyes, teasing him back. He laughs, that sound dances through the air between us. I forget, momentarily, about the weight of my mission. It's easy to get lost in these moments. Pretending I'm just another student and that everything is normal.

   As we start to work, his presence beside me draws me in. I'm aware of every glance he throws my way. He's so effortlessly charming, it's almost annoying.

   "You know," he says, glancing at me, "you should really stop acting like you don't care. It's obvious that you do." I freeze, a mixture of surprise and panic coursing through me. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intended.

   He shrugs, his expression turning serious. "You're not just the new girl anymore. You're my friend, my...you're Grace." His words hang in the air, and I can feel my heart racing. The use of my middle name, and the stutter of my changing to you're. I try to respond but I can't. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. Instead, I smile slightly.

   My smile fades just as quickly as it was acquired. This is not what I want. I can't let him see who I really am. "There you go again. Let me in Melora, I want to know you." He says. "I'm here to learn, James. Just like everyone else," I reply, trying to keep my tone casual, but it comes out a bit defensive.

   I realize I am picking at my finger, the scab from punching the mirror. I haven't had an episode like that since my twelfth birthday. I sat on my hands to hide them and to stop myself from picking at them.

  "Right." James leans back in his chair, unconvinced. The moment stretches, heavy with unspoken words. "Well, if you're here to learn, then let's get on with it." It's not just about the lesson anymore. I can't decide if the bond forming between us is a blessing or a curse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

   James stretches his arms behind his head as we leave Transfiguration. "What class have you got next?" He asks. "Mind if I walk you? I've got a break anyway." I narrow my eyes, skeptical. He shrugs, flashing that familiar grin. "Come on, I'm hopeless at sitting still. Besides, I've been meaning to have a chat with you."

   "About what?" I ask. James moves a bit closer to me, his tone softening. "You're a bit of a mystery, aren't you?" I blink, not sure where this is going. "No, not really. I think you're just nosy."

   He rubs the back of his neck, glancing around as if he's figuring out what to say and how to say it. "Maybe." He laughs. His expression changes, "Grace, you keep everyone at arm's length. Like you're on the defensive all the time."

   My stomach tightens, and I look away. "Maybe I just don't fancy spilling my guts to anyone." "Fair, but there you go with your defensiveness." he says, his voice gentler than usual. "It's like you're making a habit of it. Don't you reckon it gets a bit lonely, keeping everyone at bay?"

   I don't respond. This corridor feels endless, and each step feels louder between us. James speaks again, quieter this time. "Look, no pressure, but you don't have to keep us all out. We're not here to judge you."

   I glance at him intently. He's always mucking about, but right now... there's something different. I shrug, trying to keep things light. "Perhaps. But it's easier this way. Less hassle."

   James chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "Hassle doesn't always mean bad." He looks at me, his eyes softer. "You might be gobsmacked by how much people want to get to know you... if you let 'em."

   I don't know what to say to that, so I don't speak. We reach the door to Muggle Studies, and I am relieved for the escape. James steps back, the grin returning. "Anyway, just thought I'd mention it." He holds my gaze a second longer than usual. "See you around, Grace." I watch him walk away, something left stirring in my chest.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I settle in my usual seat in Muggle Studies, flicking through my notes quickly. I'm about to get lost in the mundane droning of Professor Burbage, when Regulus slides into the seat beside me. His hair a bit windswept, as if he legged it from wherever he was.

"Nearly missed it." He sighs, leaning back with a smirk. "Binns decided to natter on about Goblin rebellions. Bloody hell, it was torture." I roll my eyes, setting down my quill. "Consider yourself lucky. I just endured an entire lesson of James thinking he's Merlin's gift to Transfiguration."

Regulus lets out a chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Starting to think you've got a thing for Gryffindors, Melora. You spend more time with them than me." I shoot him a sideways look, no malice, just the usual banter. "Don't be daft. If I start batting my eyelashes at James, you have permission to slap me senseless."

He snorts, shaking his head. He looks about the room, his eyes lingering on the Muggle posters. "Muggle Studies." He groans, "What a load of old codswallop. Why are we wasting our time here?" I shrug, "Maybe it's not complete rubbish. Muggles run half the world without a lick of magic. That's got to count for something."

Regulus arches an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response. "I suppose," he mutters. "It just seems like they're making life harder for themselves when they could just..." He lifts his wand, "You know, do things the easy way."

I glance at him, noticing the faint frown tugging at his usually composed features. "What's brought all this on?" He fidgets with his wand, twirling it between his fingers, avoiding my gaze. "Just been thinking about things. The future, where we're headed and everything we're caught up in." His voice drops a notch. "Do you ever wonder if we're on the right side of all this?"

His question lands heavy, like a stone in my gut. My chest tightens, the weight of secrets threatening to suffocate me. I can't let him know what I'm really doing—why I'm really here. But he's looking at me like he's trying to pull something out of me. Something I can't give him.

"I think we're doing what we have to." I say carefully, keeping my voice low. "It's not always easy, but we've been taught it's for the best, right?" He stares at me for a moment, his grey eyes searching mine. "Yeah, but sometimes, I reckon there's more to it. More than what we're being told."

I bite the inside of my cheek. Regulus has always been sharper than most give him credit for. He doesn't just swallow what he's fed. Which is dangerous for someone in his position. Dangerous for both of us.

I lean in a little, lowering my voice. "Reggie, you're one of the cleverest blokes I know. You'll figure out what's right in the end." He blinks and for a moment his mask slips. There's something vulnerable in his expression, something that makes my chest ache.

"I'm not so sure about that, Mel. But, thanks." He leans back in his chair, smirking again, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "At least I've got you to keep me sane. Merlin knows I'd be knackered trying to figure this out on my own." I can't help but smile a little. "You've got me. Always."

We share a quiet moment, the usual walls between us feeling thinner. It's not often we talk like this. But here, in this stuffy classroom, it feels like the world is a little less complicated, if only for a second.

Professor Burbage starts rambling about Muggle inventions, but my mind isn't on the lesson. It's on Regulus—on what he's not saying, and the things I can't. We're both tangled up in something far bigger than us.

He doesn't know it, but we're both walking the thin line between loyalty and betrayal. How long can we keep pretending everything is alright? How long can we keep this act up?

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!
ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ!
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