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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December 25th, 1978
The morning slipped in gently, like it didn't want to disturb them. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft beams, catching in the folds of the sheets and pooling across their tangled limbs.
Avery was the first to stir, though she didn't open her eyes. Her fingers reached out instinctively, searching through the warmth beside her, and found Regulus—bare skin, slow breath, the rhythm of someone still half-dreaming.
He was already awake, though. Had been for a while. He'd woken to the weight of her curled into his chest, her hand resting just above his heart, like she had fallen asleep measuring its beats. There was a kind of awe in the way he watched her now, careful not to move too much, as if the slightest shift would shatter the spell still lingering in the room.
"Good morning, darling. And Merry Christmas," Regulus murmurs, his voice low and slightly rough from sleep.
"Mmm, Merry Christmas, Reg," Avery humms, eyes fluttering open just enough to see the morning light glowing around them. "What time is it?"
He smiled. "Too early to move. Too late to pretend it didn't happen."
She laughed softly, sleep still clinging to her voice. "Are we pretending?"
"I'm not," he says, voice low, brushing his fingers down her back.
Silence settled again, not awkward or uncertain—just full. Full of memory, of warmth, of everything that hadn't needed to be said last night. They had faded into each other, slowly. There'd been no rush, no urgency—just the kind of closeness that built itself in whispers and glances, until it finally asked to be held with more than words.
She shifted to face him fully, eyes still heavy with sleep but clear now, seeing him in the quiet morning without the glow of candlelight or the blur of midnight. Still, she smiled.
"You're staring," Avery whispers.
"Because I want to remember you like this," Regulus whispers back, brushing hair from her face. "Soft and sleepy and mine."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she buried her face in his chest. "You're getting sappy."
"Only for you."
She shifted slightly, head tucked just under his chin, and mumbles, "Mhm, I could stay like this forever."
"You could," he says. "But I make terrible breakfast."
She laughs again, sleepy and small. "Good thing I make excellent toast."
"Is that a brag?"
"Yes. Now, stop talking. Lemme get five more minutes of sleep."
He smiled, the kind that didn't quite reach his lips but settled deep in his chest—the kind that lingered.
"Okay," he whispers, letting his hand rest lightly on her back, matching the rise and fall of her breath. "Five more minutes."
