Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
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September 12th, 1977
The table is unusually quiet, tension hanging thick in the air as Barty and Evan refuse to even glance at each other. The rest of the emeralds shift uncomfortably, exchanging wary glances as they fumble to keep the morning conversation alive. Their words come lighter than usual, almost forced — a clumsy attempt to smooth over the sharp edges left by the two's argument.
About what, Avery had no idea. She was just there to chew her waffles and mind her fruit. If Hogwarts had one undeniable perk, it was the free food, and she wasn't about to let anyone's sulking ruin that — especially on her birthday. So far, she's received a creative little charm book from Pandora, a vintage cassette from Dorcas, and a white sweater from Evan.
"Avery, do you want to deliver the letters now?" Regulus asked, his voice edged with that familiar mix of impatience and quiet desperation — like he'd do just about anything to get out of the Great Hall.
Right. The Slug Club invitations. They were still tucked in the bottom of her bag, crisp and unopened. A task they were supposed to handle a week ago, but with the first meeting not until October, procrastination had won easily.
"Um, sure," she said, pushing her plate aside and sipping the last of her coffee. She didn't ask why he suddenly seemed so eager to focus on the letters — maybe it was the awkward tension still crackling between Barty and Evan, or maybe he just hated mornings. Either way, delivering letters sounded better than playing breakfast referee.
They slipped out of the Great Hall together, the chatter and clinking silverware fading behind them as the doors closed. The cool stone corridors were quieter this early in the morning, sunlight barely filtering through the high windows.
"Let me run down to the common room real quick," Regulus said as they reached the hallway that split toward the dungeons. "I forgot something."
Avery raised an eyebrow. "You're bringing Slughorn's letters a handwritten apology for the delay?"
"Something like that," he replied vaguely, already turning. "Wait here. I'll be quick."
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting her eyes drift lazily along the flickering torchlight. Her fingers idly traced the edge of her sleeve. A few second years passed by, casting curious glances at her as she offered them a disarming half-smile and looked away, pretending to study the cracks in the flagstone floor.
The sound of the door creaking open broke her focus, and Regulus stepped out. His usual impassive expression seemed a little more deliberate today. He brought his hand forward, revealing a small, intricately wrapped box, tied with a deep green ribbon. The paper was a rich, earthy brown, decorated with faint silver leaves.
"Happy Birthday, Avery," Regulus says, "You're officially legal now according to the wizarding law."
Avery couldn't help but roll her eyes, though her lips twitched in amusement. "Please don't remind me," she says as she takes the box from his hand.
