wicked | regulus black

chapter six

REGULUS

Regulus sat in the Slytherin common room, his eyes half-focused on the pages of the latest Muggle book Lunaria had given him- disguised as a tome of ways to poison your enemies. The book lay in his hands, worn and dog-earned from the countless hours he's spent with it. His mind, however, was drifting, unable to focus on the words as intently as usual. He had read these lines more than once now, though the plot wasn't the problem. Instead, his thoughts lingered on the moments he'd shared with the girl whilst discussing the last book, 1984.

His fingers traced over the spine of the new book, but he was only vaguely aware of the text. His mind kept replaying their conversation, the way Lunaria's eye's had lit up whilst she spoke, her words confident and certain. He had finished 1984 days ago, but the memory of their discussion felt fresh and vibrant. She was giving him a whole new perspective on Muggle literature, and more than that, Muggles themselves.

Leaning back in his chair, Regulus allowed the memory to fully take over, letting it sweep him back to the moment they had discussed Orwell's dystopian vision.

one week earlier

"Back again? So soon," Lunaria remarked, her voice low and satisfied as she leaned toward him, her blonde hair slipping over one shoulder. She always seemed so sure of herself, so in control of every situation, and that intrigued him more than he wanted to admit.

Regulus nodded, handing the book back to her. "I did. It's... bleak."

Lunaria laughed softly, a melodic sound that seemed to echo in the quiet corners of the Slytherin common room. "Bleak, yes, but true. Don't you think it's a powerful commentary on control, surveillance, and the dangers of authoritarianism?"

He nodded again, trying to focus on her words, but his attention kept drifting to the subtleties of her face. Her eyes were a stormy blue, intelligent and sharp, framed by thick dark lashes that fluttered slightly as she spoke. There was a natural grace to the way she carried herself- calm, unruffled. The green firelight flickered across her skin, casting a surprisingly calming glow on her pale complexion. He found himself noticing the curve of her jawline, the delicate slope of her neck where a few strands of hair had escaped, falling messily yet perfectly against her skin.

Her beauty wasn't like the others he had been around before. It wasn't just the superficial kind. It was deeper, more mysterious, and something about it made him feel almost out of control, as if he could lose himself in her every movement, her every glance.

"Regulus?" Lunaria's voice pulled him back from his thoughts, her lips curling into a slight smile. "You look distracted."

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stay on topic. "I'm not used to books like this," he admitted. "It's uncomfortable to read something so... raw. It makes you question things. Things you've always accepted as fact."

She nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. Regulus had been at battle with himself and his views on Muggles and Muggleborns alike. Were they really the villains his parents portrayed them as? He didn't think so anymore. He'd been debating it a while, and Lunaria's books and outlook were giving him the push he needed. "That's the point, really. Orwell wanted people to see the dangers of blindly following, of allowing someone else to dictate your truth. Doesn't that resonate with you?"

Regulus leaned forward, his gaze holding hers for a long moment. The depth of her insight struck him every time they spoke. She was different- different from anyone he had ever known. And he was beginning to realise that difference was becoming more and more important to him.