Decree No.29 (HP AU)

Top Of The World

One Week Later

Jessica balanced on the top rung of a wobbly ladder, stretching high to pin back the heavy curtain. Dust swirled down her in a lazy rhythm, catching the afternoon light that filtered through the window. For a year now, Grimmauld Place had been little more than a stopover, a secret corner of the wizarding world where she had learned the ropes of magic, fallen in love, and met her best friends. She had never dared to change anything in her room, especially not after Mrs Weasley had tried her best to decorate it, because she never felt like she could.

But today, she was making it her own. It was officially her bedroom.

Her t-shirt sleeves were rolled up past her elbows, streaked with pale blue paint. She'd chosen it because it reminded her of open skies, something this house had always seemed to swallow whole. On the dresser sat a vase with a handful of daisies she'd picked from the little square outside, and she had managed to find an old, tall vase somewhere on the third floor to keep them in, adding some femininity. For the first time this year, she wasn't afraid of being told to leave. This was her room now. Her home.

Jessica climbed down carefully, pressing her bare feet against the cool wood flooring, and stood back to admire the progress. It was still rough around the edges, but the bareness was lifting. The cracked walls no longer seemed like scars—they were just part of the room's history. She could live with history.

The floorboard by the door creaked.

"Busy?"

She turned, startled, to see Regulus leaning against the frame. He looked as though he belonged there - black hair falling into his eyes, hands tucked in his pockets, that sharp stillness about him that never quite softened even when his voice did. He was now dressed how the owner of such a house should be dressed, in a red-wine coloured shirt and a black velvet suit that once belonged to Sirius.

Jessica smiled as she looked at him over her shoulder. "What do you think?"

His lips twitched faintly, the closest thing he usually gave to a smile. He stepped inside, gaze sweeping over the scattered brushes, the small rug rolled half open, the stack of books waiting to find a shelf.

"You're making it unrecognisable, my mother would've hated it," he said at last. "Good."

She grinned, brushing paint off her cheek with the back of her wrist. "That was the point."

Regulus's eyes flicked up to the newly painted wall, then to the daisies on the dresser. For a moment, his expression softened, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"It suits you," he said, voice quieter this time.

Jessica blinked, momentarily stunned. She was quickly learning that compliments weren't his language - he wielded practicality and sarcasm like shields. And yet, the simple acknowledgement slipped past her defences, striking somewhere tender. Warmth unfurled in her chest, and for just a breath she allowed herself the dangerous luxury of wondering what it might be like—to stop drifting, to root herself in a place, in people, in him. To begin a relationship that wasn't quite paternal, but more than a mentor.

But then his voice shifted, brisk, businesslike, as though he'd caught himself revealing slightly more vulnerability than intended. "I'm sure your parents will love it when they visit next week."

Jessica's lips curved into a half-smile that never reached her eyes. They hadn't spoken of it since she first suggested the idea, and though she knew Regulus wanted her to build a relationship with the people she'd grown up believing were her parents, the thought still sat uncomfortably between them. "Yeah, I just hope they deal with it well," she told him, "it's already going to be hard enough giving them their memories back and telling them everything, including knowing I'm adopted, without explaining that wizards and witches are real."