Chapter Text
She remembered the way his magic felt.
Pandora grew up in the most beautiful place to ever have existed. A charming farmhouse in the countryside that had been in her family for generations. They were tenants to the Blacks, the most wealthy pureblood family in all of Britain. Her father and mother both skilled herbologists who kept the estate’s grounds in order. Their home was teeming with life, a cozy dugout under the cover of a grassy hill that was dotted with wildflowers. The kind of life where Pandora knew how to weave flower crowns before she could even speak.
Most of the year, the countryside was quiet and lovely. Wistful, breezy autumns and picturesque, snowy winters and breathtaking, blossoming springs. But Pandora’s favorite part of the year was, unequivocally, summer. Because that is when the Black family would withdraw from their ancestral home in the city and escape into nature for a few precious months.
She still remembered the first year they came. She was no more than eight, no higher than her father’s hip. She noticed her parents began working longer days, frazzled and busy from dusk till dawn. “They are coming,” his father would say. “For the first time in years. It has to be perfect.” Pandora couldn’t pick up on their distress at that age. She only saw it as excitement. And she got excited too.
Her family was there when they arrived. Dressed in their finest linens, Pandora wore a sundress, dotted with embroidered flowers her mother had done with a flick of her wand. “How did you do that?” Pandora had asked, giggling and twirling in a circle to watch the petals flutter. She could feel the lingering trails of her mother’s magic. Warm and cozy like cookies fresh out of the oven. Did other people feel magic like that? She had never thought to ask.
“One day, you’ll know how to do it,” her mother smiled. “And you will make the most beautiful things.”
Pandora remembered that for a long time, telling herself that when she grew up to become a witch, she would make beautiful things with her magic. Beautiful things that would make people happy. That would make the harshest winters feel like spring.
They waited alongside the other dozen tenants, craftsmen and workers who tended to the often abandoned estate. Pandora looked around wondering what they were all waiting for when she heard a crack like lightning that was so unexpected with the sky a cloudless blue. In a blink, there was a fiercely-faced man with a boy at his side, his long hair and striking blue eyes looking around at the estate with quiet confidence. Another blink and there was a woman, her clothes black and modern and her mouth downturned into a permanent frown. Holding her hand was another boy. Smaller, younger.
Pandora noticed him most. Perhaps because no one else did. She noticed the uneasiness in his round, navy eyes, the way he looked alone even with a crowd of people near. And something inside of her yearned to understand what it seemed like everyone had turned their eyes away from.
She had the chance one day when she was exploring the land. Weaving her way through the forest when she came upon the young boy, standing in the middle of the landscape with a book in his hands.
“Hello,” Pandora said, cautiously stepping forward. A shy smile on her face, like approaching a spooked animal.
He didn’t speak. He stood his ground. Looking confused, nearly afraid.
She stepped closer, twigs breaking under her small boots. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“I’m not bothered,” he shook his head.
He had a nice voice. It made Pandora smile. “What are you doing out here?”
“I wanted a place to read,” he said, clutching his book to his chest.
“Me too!” she beamed, showing the book in her hand as well. “Where is your brother?”
“He’s in class.”
“In class?” she furrowed her brow. “It’s summer.”
“He gets tutored during the summer. In the house,” he motioned up the hill where the colossal estate stood everpresent.
“And why don’t you get tutored?” she ran her hands against the bark of a tree, leaning into it.
The boy shrugged, “Not the heir. Not important.”
Pandora felt a pang of empathy in her gut. Not able to understand what that felt like. But she wanted to know. She wanted to help.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Regulus.”
“Regulus,” she said under her breath, committing it to memory. “I’m Pandora.”
“Pandora,” he repeated. “Pretty.”
She liked the way her name sounded in his mouth, it brought a blush to her pale cheeks. “Come with me,” she smiled sweetly, holding out her hand. “I’ll show you my favorite place to read.”
He seemed hesitant, staring down at her hand like it was something foreign. He met her eyes, quietly reading her features before he let their hands meet, fingers intertwine.
She showed him a specific tree on the edge of the forest. With the prettiest view of the fields and the estate. A place where she often came and marveled at the landscape and made up stories in her head about handsome princes and brave knights. She didn’t tell him that, too embarrassed. So instead, they read together, not exchanging words Yet still, Pandora’s eyes would wander, getting distracted as she intently studied the boy's fine clothes, the silver ring on his finger, the ravenous curls that brushed his brows, the navy blue irises that were ever so focused.
That summer she came to know Regulus. They would meet and they would read and she even got him to talk eventually. And when he spoke, she could see exactly who he was. Like a window unfogging in the sun. He was quiet and restrained. Lonesome, whether he was with people or alone. But he was also witty and clever, just under his breath, never letting anyone see his full hand. As if everything about him was a secret. And divulging it to her made her feel so special that her head would spin at just the thought of him.
They would go down to the creek on the edge of the property where milkweed would attract the butterflies. They would talk about their lives in a way that was larger than they were. Talk of dreams and aspirations and what they hoped the future would hold. The people they wanted to become. They would watch the butterflies flutter off to greener pastures and feel some sort of kinship to them. As if there were bigger, better places for them ahead. A feeling of belonging that hadn’t yet been reached.
One day, as they talked, Regulus threw a stone, letting it skip across the water. It skipped once, twice, before plopping and sinking to the depths. He picked up another one, holding it to his mouth and exhaling a heavy breath against it before he skipped it. Once, twice, a dozen times before it sank.
Pandora’s smile snapped to him, brushing her blonde hair from her face. “How did you do that?” she laughed.
Then she could feel it. The waves reaching her. Almost like a smell, but not a smell at all. It was dark, cold, tight as if confined into a small space. Shifting into shapes like shadows. But not in a bad way. In fact, it was pleasant, unlike anything she’d ever felt. His magic.
“Do you use yours?” he asked, looking over at her. “I know we aren’t supposed to.”
“Well,” she went shy, looking down to the ground. “Sometimes.”
He stared at her, eyes lively with subtle interest. “Show me.”
She looked to the flowers at her feet. And without touching them, she plucked them from their stems, letting the petals dance in the breeze. She could feel her own magic, like a radiant gold-spun thread unraveling off its spindle. Weaving in midair and glowing electric even in the dark. Bending to her will like an extension of herself. That’s how it always felt. Like golden thread.
She allowed the petals to shower down on Regulus' shoulders. Pink and yellow and white against his dark clothes. Getting caught in his curls.
He looked up at her. And he smiled. Unlike any other smile she had seen before. The kind that went up on one side, like he was trying to hide it. Another secret between them.
“Everything you do is beautiful,” he whispered.
And Pandora loved him. She knew then that she loved him.
The summer moved too quickly after that and soon, Regulus was talking about returning to the city. He spoke softly when he mentioned it, expression falling like it saddened him. But Pandora would shake his shoulders, smile and laugh and tell him that summer would be back soon enough. And she’d be here, waiting for him when it did. And he’d smile at that.
Another summer went by, adventures and secrets and fairytales read, reenacted. Regulus always playing the part of the handsome prince, Pandora the fair maiden. They would allude to a knight, often cast as a nearby tree or even a collection of petals in the faint shape of a man that Pandora’s golden thread had stitched together. And together, the three would act out lives bigger than their own.
The summers got shorter, at least they felt that way. But their hugs grew longer every August when they’d part. Pandora would always withhold her tears until after he walked back up to the house, his black outline fading away. She would go out to the creek, to cry by herself on the muddy banks. Dirty her best dress that she’d worn to send him off.
It was the summer before Pandora started at Hogwarts. Regulus had another year before he’d join her.
“What do you think it will be like?” she asked, lying beside him on the grass. Staring up at the clouds.
“It will be school,” he scoffed. “A new, boring, and uninspiring routine. I’m sure of it.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she said, sitting up and placing her hands on either side of his head to hover over him. “I think it will be marvelous.”
Regulus tried to smile, but there was something hesitant there. Sad. He reached up, moving a curtain of blonde hair behind her shoulder. “I want to go with you,” he whispered.
Her heart sunk in her chest. “One more year,” she urged. “And by then, I’ll know everything about the place. And I can show you all the best spots. And it will be a whole new adventure. The best one yet.”
He smiled at that, like maybe her hope was as infectious as she wanted it to be. He waved his hand, that feeling of black, intimate shadow caressed her face. And a white flower slotted behind her ear. He smiled wider at that.