Assumption // Regulus Black

14

A/N: Short one today, sorry! I LOVE the next chapter so stay tuned for that. 

Thalia

The next week I forgot about my fight with Ace. I got back into my normal routine for the most part: wake up, eat, go to class, do homework, read, sleep. 

I liked having a routine set for me. It made me feel a bit boring, of course, but I liked having the stability in my life. 

It always worked, too. The reading and sleeping. I'd never had an issue falling asleep after some time in the common room. 

Until tonight.

Regulus and I had been particularly quiet when reading. We said a few words here and there but mostly kept to ourselves. Around one in the morning, I walked up from the common room, got ready for bed, and settled in quickly. 

I fell asleep like I always did. 

And then I woke up. 

And I wasn't tired- not even in the slightest. I must've only slept for two hours or so. It was still dark out, so I turned over to look at my clock. 

3:45 AM. 

Great.

I huffed and sat up, running a hand over my face. I slipped out from underneath my satin silver sheets and walked to our shared bathroom. I stared in the mirror for a moment, remarking at how tired I looked. Yet I didn't even feel it which was so odd.

After doing my business, I grabbed Regulus's book and silently descended the steps to the common room. I figured I could make some tea and maybe that would help. Hell, I don't even like tea that much. But it was also nearly four in the morning, and I was hoping to get at least two hours of sleep.

To my surprise, when I entered the common room, Regulus was still there, reading my book. I wasn't sure what was weirder, the fact that it was nearly four in the morning, or the fact that he was staying up to read a muggle book. 

"You're still awake?" I rasped, immediately coughing to clear my throat. He glanced up from his book.

"So are you," he pointed. "I thought you went to sleep."

"I did," I shrugged, walking over to the small kitchenette in the corner of the common room. "And now I can't." 

I set the tea kettle on the stove top and glanced over at Regulus who was back to reading. 

"Do you want any?" I asked.

"No," he said, though he added after a second, "Thank you."

After a few minutes, I had made my tea and settled into my chair across from him. I sipped the chamomile drink, and a warming sensation spread throughout my body. 

I studied Regulus. His grey eyes carefully read each line, flicking back and forth as he observed the words. His lips were slightly pursed, telling me he was interested in what was happening. His posture was relaxed, as if he was reading the book for leisure purposes rather than analytical ones. And then I realized...

"You like it," I said abruptly.

"Pardon?" He looked up, his grey eyes meeting mine.

"The book," I couldn't suppress my triumphant grin, "You actually like it."

"I didn't say that," he frowned slightly. 

"You didn't have to," I replied cheekily before taking a sip from my teacup.

"Ok, how do you know then?" He questioned with raised brows. "That I like it."

"The power of observation," I grinned. 

"That's not enough evidence for me," he replied back simply.

"I'll prove it to you," I shrugged. 

"How?"

"I'll show you just how good I am at making assumptions off my observations." 

He stared at me with raised eyebrows, looking doubtful and unimpressed. I merely smirked at his expression.

"You never wear two different colored socks, you prefer butter beer over fire whiskey yet you refuse to drink it, and you would die before telling your teammates that you actually like to read. I know those things for the same reasons I know you like the book." 

He stared at me curiously, and I took another sip of tea. 

"What else do you know about me?" He asked, setting the book down on his lap, telling me the conversation about 1984 was over, and we had moved onto something else.

"I suppose I don't know anything for a fact," I shrugged, "They're just assumptions. Good ones though," I smirked.

"Ok, then what are some other 'assumptions' of yours?" Regulus asked. 

I set down my cup and stared at him. 

"You think coffee tastes like dirt, you prefer your mum over your dad, you convince yourself that the reason you hate your brother is because he's irritating and not because you actually miss him, when you were little you wanted to play professional quidditch, and your dream is to live in the French countryside."

"I hate France," he said with a blank expression. 

"Just assumptions," I repeated again with a small smirk. 

"Yeah well you were wrong about that one," he said. 

"And the others?" I asked. He didn't say anything, and I smiled smugly. "I'd say four out of five is pretty good, don't you think?"

He rolled his eyes, though a ghost of a smile played on his lips. It vanished quickly.

"Anything else you'd like to share, Lark?"

"No, I'll share them when they come to me," I smirked. "So was I right then? About the book."

"'Like' is being generous, but I don't hate it so far," was all he said. 

We both looked back down at our books once again, though this time I was smiling to myself. I read a few pages before a thought jumped into my head. 

"Sorry, you hate France?" I questioned abruptly, looking up from my book.

"Yes," he said simply, meeting my eyes. "They're stuck up people who think so highly of themselves that their egos cloud their judgment."

"Sounds a lot like you," I smirked and he scowled.  

"Bottom line is that they're rude."

"'Hate' is a strong word for rude people," I observed amusingly.

"Alright, then I greatly dislike France," he rolled his eyes.

"You're very opinionated, Black," I smirked. 

"Everyone should be," he shrugged, "Nothing would get done if we weren't." 

I raised my eyebrows but didn't disagree with him. I went back to reading, letting my eyes surrender to fatigue.

I went upstairs after another twenty minutes of reading, and I fell asleep.

I didn't wake up until the morning.