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ii. i can change everything about me to fit in
REGULUS BLACK HATED PUREBLOOD politics. He fought the incessant urge to roll his eyes at every word his mother uttered. And when she sought to interrogate the pretty blonde on Mrs Rosier's right arm, he wanted to puke.
He knew that Keely-Rome Darcy could bullshit her way out of anything. The fact was proven periodically as she weaved her way out of Walburga's bad books for simply existing.
She was a sweet talker, he could give her that. His skin crawled as her gaze flicked to him before back to his mother. He felt as though she was picking him apart piece by piece by merely watching him.
It wasn't very Hufflepuff of her to be so overtly intimidating.
They say that the eyes are the door to the soul. Keely was getting uncomfortably close to kicking down his door, and peering into the abyss of his soul that was as black as his name.
His eyes trailed down her figure, eyeing the baby-pink dress that hugged at her every curve, and then the little black heels that looked like death traps. It was brave, wearing such bright, lively colors to a pureblood ball.
The baby pink wouldn't save her from their wrath, but he was starting to realize, as he should have after the incident in second year, that Keely was far from a damsel in distress.
She didn't need saving from anyone or anything, except maybe herself. But that's just what Pandora had told him.
She was a baby doll in a haunted house of angry ghosts and envious sea monsters. Then again, how many dolls have there been in muggle fiction that end up being the threat?
She didn't need him to save her; she was handling his mother's bullshit a lot smoother than he had ever managed to in his sixteen years of living it. And so, he stood back silently, listening as the Hufflepuff served a peppy little piece of herself on a silver platter for her monster of a mother to devour.
⌀⌁
On one side of the ballroom, Evan and Regulus sat with their fathers, discussing anything and everything. That is to say literally nothing, but Regulus didn't dare utter the words.
His mother's latest obsession, fueled by his father's blind following, was to acquire him a bride. It was stupid, he felt. What was the point of marriage if it just ended or led to unhappy children?
