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Josephine ponders between the two books, deeply engrossed in the far reaches of the library, delving into the intricacies of spell creation.
The task at hand seems formidable, with each book emphasizing that only extraordinary wizards can master it. She can't help but roll her eyes at the repetitive claim.
Growing increasingly irritated, she questions whether it truly is as challenging as the texts make it out to be. Regardless, she decides to give it a shot.
Flipping through a book on Latin words and meanings, she seeks terms related to protection. After a few minutes, she stumbles upon "Protegara Custodia," loosely translating to a protective shield. She jots down the incantation, envisioning its use for shielding and protecting small objects.
Despite her efforts, there is scant information on spell creation, other than its acknowledged difficulty. Just as she contemplates testing the spell's effectiveness, an unexpected visitor approaches.
"Regulus," she greets as he walks over, noting a positive shift in his mood.
"Josephine," he responds, pausing before taking a seat and surveying the array of books on her table.
"I'm experimenting," she nonchalantly explains.
"Right," he nods slowly, a few strands of long hair falling into his face.
"Oh, wait!" she exclaims before he settles in. "Can I try something?" Her smile is already in place as she rises from her chair.
He appears hesitant. "Depends," he replies as she approaches.
"Just stand there for a second," she mutters, taking a step back. Though he seems confused, she needs to test the spell.
Retrieving her wand from her back pocket, she quietly utters the incantation. Though invisible to him, a small ripple of light emanates from her wand, enveloping her.
Her eyes widen. "Okay," she says, inviting him to test the spell. "Try to attack me."
Regulus tilts his head, a concerned expression crossing his face. "What—"
"Just try," she shrugs.
Taking a few steps closer, Regulus finds himself halted by an unseen force. An invisible wall prevents further approach. Furrowing his brows, he touches the barrier with his hand, intrigued and bewildered.
Josephine beams with delight. "It works!" A swift motion of her wand and the spell dissipates.
Though Regulus remains perplexed, she tenderly cups the side of his face, leans in, and kisses him. The response is swift and reciprocal.
"Thank you," she murmurs against his lips.
"I don't know what I did," he confesses.
Taking a step back, her hand lingers on his face for an extra moment. Regulus licks his lips before inquiring, "What spell is that?"
"My spell," she grins. "I created it."
His eyes widen slightly. "Don't make a big deal out of it," Josie insists.
Regulus takes a step closer. "You never want to make a big deal about anything," he remarks.
Josephine turns away, pretending to focus on tidying up the table. "Anyway," she clears her throat as she stacks the books, then shifts her attention to her nails. "I need to paint my nails," she mumbles, noting the redness around them from her earlier picking.
Turning to Regulus, she asks, "Can I paint your nails?"
Regulus agrees with a nod. As they sit down at the table, she rummages through her magically expanded bag, retrieving an assortment of nail polish bottles.
"How much stuff do you even have in that bag?" he inquires, placing his hands on the table, adorned with his customary multiple rings.
"Lots of stuff," she replies. "Now pick colors." The array of options is diverse.
Predictably, he chooses black. But there is also a surprising choice – blue.
She raises her brows at the selection. "Do this one blue," he taps his ring finger.
Josie smiles to herself, opening the bottle of black paint and skillfully applying it to his nails. Painting Regulus's nails feels oddly intimate.
She feels most like herself with Regulus, the person with whom she pretends the least.
Leaning his head on the hand she isn't painting, Regulus simply stares at her.
She has missed being with him over the summer.
"Do you have a favorite mythology? I noticed you reading some Greek mythology books," he inquires.
"I enjoy Greek mythology, but if I have to pick a favorite, it's probably Norse or Celtic. What about you?" she responds.
"I like Greek mythology. The tragedies are quite compelling reads," he shares.
Josephine completes the blue nail on his ring finger before delicately taking his other wrist, placing his hand on the table to begin the other.
"Which tragedy is your favorite?" she asks.
He hums in thought. "Orpheus and Eurydice."
She nods. "Good choice. I think I have too many favorites."
"Name them," he urges.
"I appreciate Eros and Psyche for romantic tragedy. Circe's and Helen's stories also hold a special place for me," she admits. The conversation provides a welcome moment of calm, a respite from the usual worries.
However, the tranquility doesn't last. The weight of her responsibilities comes crashing back, a reminder that she can't stay in this moment forever.
Maybe she can just stop, leave the Order, and cease being a spy. But the reality of having two horcruxes holds her back. She can't quit now; only three horcruxes remain.
Josie can't fathom why the universe seems to be against her.
In another life, perhaps she committed wrongs, and this is her penance.
She sighs lightly, finishing the nail polish.
"Done," she announces as she closes the paint bottle.
