❛ ─ in which regulus black finds himself obsessing over a particular ravenclaw half-blood whom he should not even be talking to. ❜
⋆૪ ִֶָ ࣪𖥻✸۫˖ 𓍯۫˖ ❤️🩹𖥔 ָ࣪ ˖╲ʾ ִ 𖤐💋 ִ ͙▸
##! ꒰ fem!oc x r.black ꒱
##! ꒰ mature content ꒱
##! ꒰ marauders era ꒱
⌕...
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⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝ notes :: it's been a while. but here i am!! last chapter, woooooo let's go. also note, bellatrix in this story is nothing like canon bellatrix so pls no "actually 👆🤓" here. i hate being canon & i hate jkr!!!! ⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
"see what you wanna see„ 2nd june 1978,
"you remember?" walburga asked, a distant voice that didn't even feel real to athena. she was in her own mind so much, trying to take in regulus's words, that everything else felt like a whole different world.
only that morning she had woken up to regulus lying by her side, fast asleep. his gentle breaths that made his chest heave up and down, his eyelashes fluttering every few minutes, almost like he'd wake up. it was so peaceful and so perfect until nott came knocking at the door, disrupting the peace.
she debated ignoring the sound and staying in bed with him, but she thought that would be reckless. how ironic. ignoring it would've been the safer option and she would've still had the chance to live.
not anymore. she knew that. one thing about athena was that she wasn't delusional or optimistic. she faced the truth head on. death was right around the corner and the closer walburga stepped, the more she looked like the grim reaper herself.
"yes. i remember," she whispered. the voice speaking was hers but athena could barely recognise it.
"good. now this will all be easier, right?" bellatrix cackled from the other side of the room.
regulus was still kneeling over, looking down. he hadn't looked at his girlfriend since she admitted she remembered it. guilt, maybe. or maybe he was the opposite to her and he was trying to tell himself she'd make it out alive. surprisingly, he always was more optimistic than her.
"stand up, regulus," his mother demanded. he slowly rose to his feet, glancing over at athena. sorrow was painted on his face, but with a hint of something else she couldn't identify. "stand next to me."
he walked, with slow long strides, to his mother's side.
