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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January 26th, 1978
The moment Avery and Regulus stepped through the wide mahogany doors of Professor Slughorn's party, a wave of golden light and rich scents—roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, something suspiciously like crystallized pineapple—washed over them.
The room had been transfigured into something out of a Victorian fantasy: velvet drapes floating as if caught in an eternal breeze, a harp strumming itself in the corner, and floating lanterns drifting lazily overhead. Overdressed students and underdressed professors mingled with varying levels of discomfort.
Avery barely had time to take it all in before Slughorn's voice boomed from the back. "Regulus, my boy! And Miss Avery, looking positively radiant! Come in, come in!"
Regulus gave his usual polished smile, the one that said I'm flattered but mildly horrified, and leaned toward Avery. "Take a shot every time he says 'my boy' and I'll be carrying you out of here."
They drifted into the crowd, Regulus greeting people with nods, Avery offering polite smiles, both of them skilled in the art of being charming without becoming approachable. A few younger students stared — either because of Regulus Black's general reputation or because Avery's laugh had just made a small group of Ravenclaws flinch.
"So," she whispers, eyeing a table full of weirdly glowing hors d'oeuvres, "what's the plan? Be dazzling? Steal all the sweets? Start a duel?"
"I was thinking we slip powdered Peruvian Darkness into Slughorn's punch," Regulus says mildly, "but that does sound exhausting."
"Agreed. Let's go with charming and threatening, then."
He nodded, taking a crystal goblet of pumpkin fizz. "Our default setting."
They moved through the room like a pair of well-dressed sharks, pausing here and there to exchange remarks with Slughorn's latest 'rising stars'. Someone from Ravenclaw tried to rope Regulus into a conversation about Wizengamot reform; Avery cheerfully intercepted with a question about how many flobberworms it would take to successfully unionize.
She wasn't sure how it happened—one minute she and Regulus were lingering by the enchanted fondue table, making sarcastic comments about Slughorn's choice in party hats, and the next, a wave of students had swept between them like a tide.
She could still see him, just on the other side of the room, flanked by a group of seventh-years. One of them—a girl in Slytherin green with hair like silk and a smile that could probably get her away with murder—had her hand on his arm as she laughed at something he said.
Avery tilted her head, squinting. Interesting. She took a bite of her spiced biscuit with just a bit too much force.
It wasn't that she cared. Obviously. Regulus was charming when he felt like it. People gravitated toward him like moths to a bored, well-dressed flame. That didn't mean anything.
