Regulus could feel Lily's gaze ping-ponging between him and Snape.
The girl was sharp. She'd likely heard about last night already. News traveled fast, and the Gryffindor table had been buzzing about it over breakfast.
She'd also picked up on Snape's odd behavior.
Lily had noticed something off about Severus all term. Whenever he was around her, he carried this undercurrent of guilt, like he was hiding something.
He'd been asking about Regulus more often, too. Every time she answered, his expression twisted into something strange, as though he disagreed and wanted to argue but swallowed it instead.
Dinner was approaching.
Regulus closed his book and began packing up.
The moment he stood, Snape shot to his feet. Too fast. The chair legs scraped across the floor with a piercing screech.
Madam Pince's head emerged from behind a bookshelf, eyes narrowing into a glare.
Snape ignored her. He reached out and pressed a hand lightly on Lily's shoulder as she started to rise.
She looked up, confused.
He didn't speak. His eyes told her to stay put.
Lily blinked. She settled back into her chair, reopened her book, but her gaze kept drifting sideways, ears pricked.
Regulus found the whole scene amusing. He gave Lily a warm smile, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked toward the nearest row of shelves.
Snape followed.
They stood in the shadow between two towering bookcases.
Snape's lips pressed together. He worked to make his expression look sincere. "Thank you."
Regulus raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
He watched Snape, and under that steady gaze, Snape grew more uncomfortable by the second. His shoulders drew inward. The sincerity was cracking.
"You think I did that for you?" Regulus said, as though reading him like a page.
Something stubborn flared in Snape's eyes. And beneath it, something else.
A murky possessiveness. An impulse to claim credit.
His thanks, on some subconscious level, was an attempt to frame the narrative: Because I asked for help, you acted. So the protection Lily received, indirectly, that's my doing.
That way he could tell himself he'd still protected Lily. Even if it was through someone else's hands.
The psychology was twisted, but it fit Snape perfectly.
Insecure and proud in equal measure. Hungry for power, terrified of losing the little he had.
He couldn't protect Lily openly, so he constructed this workaround to soothe himself.
I asked. Black acted. Therefore I contributed.
A smile tugged at the corner of Regulus's mouth. No malice behind it. He was simply entertained.
He'd encountered all kinds of people.
Fanatical Bella. Shrewd Narcissa. Impulsive Cuthbert. Timid Alex. Brooding Hermes.
But someone this deeply, fundamentally awkward? That was new.
He said nothing more and turned to leave.
At the end of the bookshelf, back still turned to Snape, his voice carried at an unhurried volume: "You're welcome."
Then he walked to Lily's table. "See you tomorrow."
Her eyes brightened. She nodded. "See you tomorrow."
Regulus left the library.
Lily waited until his footsteps faded down the corridor, then pounced the moment Snape returned to the table, voice low. "Severus, what were you two talking about?"
Snape wouldn't meet those eyes. His gaze fixed on the wood grain of the tabletop. "Slytherin business."
"Oh."
Lily could hear the wall going up. Her eyes darted sideways as she made a mental note.
She'd ask Regulus when she got the chance. She also wanted to ask about last night.
His reputation had split down the middle. Inside Slytherin, it was near-universal adoration. Outside, a growing number of students looked at him with open contempt.
The Gryffindor table that morning had been calling him a psychopath. Made a classmate kneel all night. Who does he think he is?
The fact that the one kneeling was also a Slytherin didn't stop Gryffindor from piling on.
Lily didn't believe Regulus was that kind of person.
She'd spent enough time around him to recognize the composure, the logic, the deliberation behind everything he did. He wasn't James Potter, tormenting people for sport.
But she wanted to hear it from him. Why had he done it? Was there a reason she couldn't see?
She closed her book and stood. "Come on. Time for dinner."
Snape nodded and followed.
Lily led the way, her red hair catching the light like something ablaze.
Snape watched her from behind, and the faces from the gatherings crowded back into his mind. The slogans. The feverish eyes.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms.
The contradiction ground on, and he had no idea how to choose.
Or rather, he wanted both. But the world wouldn't let him have them at the same time.
---
The days that followed settled Hogwarts into a strange calm.
Hard to pinpoint a single cause, though it likely traced back to what Regulus had done.
After Arnold Belmont was taken home, the restless energy inside Slytherin cooled overnight, and Gryffindor quieted down with it.
The low-level skirmishing between younger students all but vanished, leaving only scattered, toothless friction.
The exception, of course, was Gryffindor's infamous second-year quartet: James, Sirius, Lupin, and Peter. They remained as active as ever.
The concept of restraint might as well not have existed in their vocabulary. Any Slytherin who rubbed them the wrong way was fair game, though their attacks stayed in prank territory.
Transfiguring someone's bag into a toad. Petrifying a kid and leaving him in the corridor like a statue. Sticking someone to their chair with a Permanent Sticking Charm.
They were still young enough that they hadn't developed a taste for public underwear inspections.
Slytherin gave as good as it got. The previous Friday, two second-years had ambushed Peter and James in a deserted corridor.
No one saw what happened. By the time Filch found them, all four were on the floor.
Peter was retching from a Slug-Vomiting Charm, a dozen slugs trailing slime in circles around his head. James had been petrified from the waist down and was dragging himself forward on his elbows.
Of the two Slytherins, one was out cold from a Stunning Spell, and the other's hair had been dyed hot pink and was still smoking.
Professor McGonagall went white with fury. She marched all four to the Hospital Wing, docked twenty points from each house, and handed down a week's detention.
But on the whole, Hogwarts was peaceful.
On sunny afternoons, students stretched out on the lawns or read by the lake.
Younger kids chased each other through the corridors, their laughter bright and free of malice.
That carefree feeling drifted through the castle like an early summer breeze.
Then June tenth arrived. Three days before exams. The peace evaporated.
Even the rhythm of footsteps in the corridors changed. The usual aimless shuffle became a brisk march, every student moving like a dragon was on their heels.
At meals, people propped books against the salt shakers, stabbing themselves in the nose with their forks before noticing.
The library was packed to capacity. Madam Pince had to swap her NO TALKING sign for one that read NO HEAVY BREATHING.
Regulus felt no exam anxiety. He kept to his routine: up at six-thirty, breakfast in the Great Hall at seven, then off to the library after class to read whatever interested him, none of it exam-related.
Cuthbert was slightly wound up, but nothing serious.
Hermes couldn't have cared less about exams. Apart from the essays he was required to submit, nobody in the dormitory had ever seen him revise.
The only one in genuine distress was Alex. A stress blister had erupted on his lip, stinging every time it was touched.
On the corner of his desk sat a pot of soothing flower, its petals a pale purple, its stamens glowing faintly silver. A common calming plant in the wizarding world.
Alex stared at his textbook, eyes sweeping across the lines, but his focus wasn't there. Nothing was landing.
Regulus rose from his own desk and walked over.
Alex looked up, blank-eyed, unsure what was happening.
Regulus didn't acknowledge him. He extended one hand, palm hovering three inches above the soothing flower.
His magical awareness reached into the petals, stems, and root system.
The plant's magical current was gentle. unhurried and steady.
He traced the current, locating its densest point: the center of the stamen cluster, where the silver glow burned brightest.
Then he let his own magic sway in rhythm with the flower's pulse, searching for the point of synchronization.
A flicker of intent, and the silver light at the stamen's core began to move. Guided by his magic, it lifted free of the plant and rose into the air.
The glow stretched into a thin filament, the filament converging, condensing into a luminous blue-white bead no larger than a grain of rice, hovering above his fingertip.
Cuthbert drifted over from his desk, eyes wide.
Regulus had placed his hand over a plant and drawn out a glowing sphere of magic?
He'd never seen Verdant Magic before, but he could guess what this was: direct manipulation of a plant's magical energy.
Regulus drew his wand with his left hand and aimed it at the crumpled ball of waste parchment on Alex's desk.
---
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