just lovers like we were supposed to be

ACT TWO: Part Three

Chapter Notes
no real warnings for this chapter, just some shit parents being shit parents, BUT there is brother bonding between sirius and regulus, so there's that! enjoy <3
See the end of the chapter for more notes

Melanie has potential. She's young, but her passion for the sport is undeniable and provides promise. It's the way she's so attentive to everything Regulus tells her, eyes wide and focused like an owl; the way she tries over and over to get a move right and won't move past it until she has; the way she asks questions eagerly, demands he show her beat-by-beat how to do whatever she's desperate to learn, and takes extra time past just the Ravenclaw team practices to meet Regulus on the pitch in the endeavor to improve.

It took Regulus a long time—and being disowned, as well as reconnected with his brother—to learn that putting in the effort to be good at something is just as admirable as having the natural talent for it. He's no better than her just because he doesn't have to work as hard; there was a time he wouldn't have thought that way, not about her, or about himself.

There's something so lovely and relieving about still having a reason to fly as well. To come to the pitch, get on a broom, and let the world fall away. To fly drills and feel even a piece of the thrill that comes from Quidditch. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but he misses playing.

"Crikey, you're brilliant," Melanie gasps out as she follows him to the ground, dumping herself down on it with her chest heaving, arms outstretched with her broom discarded just past her lazily splayed fingertips.

Regulus chuckles and leans up against his broom, not quite as worn out as her. In fairness, he's had a few more years of practice with this. "You're going to hate that you've gotten down there, because you're not going to want to get back up."

"Oh, don't make me get back up," Melanie groans, dragging an arm over to toss it across her eyes. "Sit down, yeah? Just give me a minute. Maybe two. Or ten."

"Tired, are you?" Regulus drawls, but he does prop up against his broom to sink down to the
ground, shifting to lay his broom across his lap. He drags it down and starts dusting off the handle with his sleeve. He needs to polish it.

"You're brutal," Melanie declares, but she sounds approving, like she appreciates this about him. He just hums, and she lifts her arm to look at him. "It's a shame I won't get to play against you in a match. A proper one, I mean."

"Count your lucky stars. I'd demolish you."

"Yeah, but it'd be cool."

"Ah, and that's the important bit, is it?"

"Obviously."

"Right." Regulus' lips twitch. "I suppose it is a shame, then."

Melanie props up on one elbow and starts distractedly tearing at the grass, eyebrows furrowed.
"Did they really just kick you off because you—you have a boyfriend?"

"In a manner of speaking," Regulus admits carefully, unwilling to explain the more sordid details, like how the team was worried he'd be swooning over their cocks or something.

"It's stupid," Melanie offers, and Regulus hums in quiet agreement. She purses her lips. "What do you even—"

"What?"

"Just… What do you even like about them?"

"Them?" Regulus asks.

"Boys," Melanie clarifies.

Regulus' eyebrows jump up against his will. He eyes her for a moment, then says, "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," Melanie mutters. "Just turned."