» t h e s o l i l o q u y « 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚛𝚜
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we're caught up in a war we didn't ask fo...
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They found their usual spot on the train, Hettie to her left and Regulus across from her. He had a different book this time, it's spine so worn she couldn't gather the title. She never told him that she read the Grindelwald book, that she quite enjoyed it. Her fingers traced over the pages, imagining him laughing at the same parts. She had also thought of her sister, rolling her eyes at his beliefs, scribbling notes on lose parchment instead of enjoying the story for what it was.
Jocelin had liked it just enough.
"Get your bloody nose out of that book and talk to us." Hettie reached across the table, swiping it from Regulus's hands. He fumbled for it, shooting her a dark look before tucking it away.
"Isn't it my favorite fifth years? Excuse me, now sixth years." Alexander Nott slid next to Regulus, his eyes settled mostly on Hettie. She leaned on her elbows, tongue swiping across her bottom lip at him. Jocelin tensed.
Regulus gave his usual smirk and leaned back, oddly relaxed. He could not be more opposite of his brother, in ways that felt natural and mature. While Sirius was loud and boisterous, getting everyone to look at him and never backing down like a typical Gryffindor, Regulus could easily command his spaces. Last year the girls started whispering when he would walk by, and he would just flash a sly smile. Sirius lapped it up, while Regulus simply accepted it.
She thought about her and Delilah, the crass 7th year who wasn't afraid to intimidate those around her. She was always right and had to make it known. Jocelin could never capture that kind of confidence and she certainly didn't have the same ease that Regulus produced. It was funny, how different situations turned out different people.
"Jocelin." Hettie elbowed her hard and she realized she had been staring. Her eyes met Regulus's who raised an eyebrow, traces of a smile fleeting.
"Oh, sorry I was just-"
"Admiring the view, we know." Hettie laughed, sending flames across Jocelin's skin.
"We were wondering how drunk you supposed our parents would be getting at the Malfoy/Black wedding. But better question is, how drunk will you be?" Hettie pushed, knowing full well that wasn't who Jocelin was.
"Oh, uh. I suppose my mother will have just enough wine to make her actually hold my father's hand to walk. Maybe she'll shower us in compliments..." She thought aloud, wishing it was the truth. "And my father, you know his face will get all red and ruddy, he'll try to make jokes that will land flat." Jocelin scrunched her nose at the thought. It was awful having to deal with them at their sober, let alone their drunk.
