Starry Serendipity || R.A.B

10. Valerie and feelings

October 1975

The moon hangs high in the night sky as Regulus and I embark on yet another round of patrols. The tension that has become almost customary between us seems to momentarily dissipate as we stumble upon a couple engaged in a clandestine meeting. With a shared understanding, we approach them, the couple's startled expressions evident in the moonlight.

Regulus and I exchange a glance, the corners of our lips twitching with suppressed amusement. There's fun in this task, a shared role that goes beyond our differences. As we deliver the inevitable detention, the couple's crestfallen faces draw an unbidden chuckle from both of us.

For a moment, the tension that often simmers between us takes a backseat, replaced by a shared laughter that feels almost cathartic. It's a stark reminder that beyond our disagreements, we are still two individuals with the capacity to connect on some level.

But as quickly as the laughter emerges, the familiar friction returns. A comment, a glance, a tone—it doesn't take much for the undercurrent of our differences to resurface. The conversation takes a sharp turn, the banter transitioning into an all-too-familiar argument.

As the words volley between us, it's like an unending cycle—one that we've fallen into too many times before. The topics may change, but the core of our disagreements remains constant, a clash of perspectives that neither of us seems willing to back down from.

In the midst of the argument, I find myself wondering why we always seem to revert to this pattern. Is it a clash of personalities, the result of our differing backgrounds, or simply a matter of stubbornness? There's no easy answer, no clear explanation for why we can't seem to find common ground.

"It's not about pureblood superiority, Valerie," Regulus asserts, his voice edged with frustration. "It's about tradition, about preserving our heritage."

I shake my head, my own irritation rising to meet his. "But at what cost, Regulus? What good is tradition if it perpetuates discrimination and divides people?"

He scowls, his dark eyes narrowing. "You just don't understand the importance of upholding our family's legacy."

"Legacy?" I retort, my voice rising in exasperation. "You mean the legacy that allows for the mistreatment of Muggle-borns and half-bloods?"

Regulus's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I see a flash of something beyond anger—perhaps doubt. But he quickly masks it, his expression turning stubborn. "You're oversimplifying things. There's more to it than you realize."

"Is there?" I challenge, my frustration bubbling over. "Because all I see is a cycle of prejudice that's been perpetuated for generations."

He takes a step forward, his posture rigid. "And what would you have us do, Valerie? Abandon our heritage entirely?"

"No, but we can challenge it," I insist, my voice unwavering. "We can change, we can evolve, and we can strive for a better world."

Regulus's gaze narrows, his frustration boiling over. "You're naive if you think change can happen that easily."

"And you're blind if you can't see that change is necessary," I retort, my patience wearing thin.

The air between us crackles with unresolved tension, our conflicting beliefs colliding in a storm of words. It's a clash of ideals, of values deeply ingrained and fiercely defended. Neither of us is willing to yield, our passion fueling the intensity of our argument.

As our voices rise and fall, I catch glimpses of Regulus's frustration and perhaps even a glimmer of doubt. But the stubbornness that has always defined him doesn't waver. He's rooted in his convictions, just as I am in mine.