april 12, @jegulus-microfic prompt: amortentia. word count: 682.
The iridescent sheen of the potion enchants Regulus; he could stare at the lovely pinkish-pearled swirls for hours, dazed and happy to be smelling the things he loves the most. He smiles down at the cauldron, reminded of his happiest memories, reminded of every good thing that makes life worth living.
He leans forward to inhale, eyes blissfully falling shut. Today is one of his favorite Potions days—they finally brewed Amortentia. He’s an excellent potioneer, and he’s waited years for the day they brew it in class. Regulus sighs, content, and catalogs each distinct smell and their origin.
(1) He smells lavender and roses. This one isn’t hard to decode—Pandora smells like lavender, and she leaves pink rose petals in his bags and pockets when she senses he needs good luck.
(2) The next smell is far more sugary and rather… artificial in nature. Peach candies, he realizes. His chest warms, reminded of summersweet memories with Sirius, sneaking to Hogsmeade to steal candies together and scurrying home, tripping over gangly feet and laughing too loudly for the still night. Midnights spent huddled together under too-hot covers, quiet giggles and sticky hands grabbing for the pile of sweets between them. Peach candies were always Sirius’ favorite.
(3) Next he smells grass and wind, which he is not surprised to find, and likely derives from his love for Quidditch. No, his love for flying. Regulus feels most at peace when flying, whipping around the air with precision and skill. He feels free, when flying.
This next part is where he gets confused.
Regulus Black finds himself squinting at the cauldron, begging it to tell him its secrets. It’s rather mysterious, he thinks, a potion that can tell you everything you love. He folds his arms over his chest, huffing quietly.
(4) Regulus smells apples.
He smells… apples? He’s not familiar with apples, you see, so he cannot distinguish what kind of apple he smells. But there is a distinct apple smell wafting from his cauldron, and he leans back, blinking down in concern.
An important thing to note—Regulus Black hates apples.
At least, he hates eating apples. He won’t eat apple pie, or apple sauce, or apple juice or artificial apple flavors—he dislikes the taste and texture of them. The smell of apples isn’t too overpowering, so he isn’t too far bothered in that sense, but to find apples in his Amortentia perplexes him more than anything.
He thinks again, quill tapping against his notebook beside the cauldron. The Amortentia told him he loves Pandora, Sirius, flying, and… he doesn’t know what the apples could possibly signify. Apples. Apples. Apples.
The apples have stumped him.
Regulus thinks about apples for the rest of the day. He thinks about apples and fruits and any correlation, and he thinks why, why apples?
He’s walking with his friends to the dungeons later that evening when it hits him square in the face like a bag of bricks. He almost trips over his own feet, barely holding himself properly upright.
“No. No, no, no, no—it can’t possibly be. No, I refuse.” He shakes his head violently, stomach lurching and eyes watering. He sprints all the way to his dorm room bathroom, locking himself tightly within and avoiding the worried shouts of his friends.
He recalls the memory, crystal-clear now. He recalls the distinct smell of apples. He recalls the playful smiles and loud, booming laugh of the boy beside him.
He recalls the apples. The apples. The apples.
He recalls the apples, because Regulus Black was sitting under an apple tree with James Potter the first time he thought, James is the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. That day was the first time he got butterflies, his belly in an uproar over the proximity of a boy like James, a boy with a smile brighter than every star in the sky. That day, Regulus looked at James and realized he wanted to know what it felt like to fall.
He takes out his Potions notebook, scribbling furiously:
Pandora, Sirius, flying, and… James Potter.
part of a collection of microfics on ao3(2/?): in every life, my heart finds yours.
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"Barry is so ugly"
"I dont see the hype behind Jeremy Alan white"
"Hot take: zendaya is not attractive"
"Jacob elordi isn't all that"
"Now that the pedro hype is down, can we admit he isn't good-looking?"
"Bella is too unattractive to play a 13 year-old girl"
"Margot Robbie is mid"
Go read whatever new 30-page pdf file that your designated alpha male is trying to market as an ebook. Rot your mind with the 14-step skincare routine of the month. Buy your Stanleys and post on r/rateme.
Go be insufferable and unloveable
Touch grass you cunts.
You people piss me off. You are so delusional and deranged that you've been completely blinded by whatever new trend is being puked by the good for nothing "lifestyle" youtuber you're worshipping at the moment
You fucking bellends, having a conversation with you is draining and brain-rotting. The way you speak of people sickens me. You lack so much basic media literacy and just basic empathy and understanding of the people around you that you can't see the talent in art if not bloated with 6 ml of fillers.
Every time I hear you speak, I'm filled with unimaginable levels of superiority.
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I don't know why you're mean to me
When I call on the telephone
And I don't know what you mean to me
But I want to turn you on
Turn you up, figure you out
I want to take you on
These words, you will be mine
These words, you will be mine, all the time
Now fool might be my middle name
But I'd be foolish not to say
I'm going to make whatever it takes
Ring you up, call you down, sign your name
Secret love, make it rhyme
Take you in and make you mine
These words, you will be mine
These words, you will be mine, all the time
I tripped and fell, did I fall
What I want to feel
I want to feel it now
You know with love comes strange currencies
And here is my appeal
I need a chance, a second chance, a third chance
A fourth chance, a word, a signal
A nod, a little breath
Just to fool myself, to catch myself
And make it real, real
These words, you will be mine
These words, you will be mine, all the time
These words, you will be mine
These words haunt me, hunt me down, catch in my throat
Make me pray, to say love's confines, oh
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Ellie: Yeah well, lucky for him he didn’t find us, cause when I get in a fight, I go all crazy and I’m a raging ball of brown hair! *trips and falls*
Joel: *rolls his eyes*
Ellie: *Quickly gets back up* I mean I don’t wanna brag or nothing but..I got some moves
Joel: Oh really?
Ellie: *Pulls out her switch blade* Yep! This first one…well, it’s just a little thing I like to call “the slasher”! *starts wildly waving her knife around*
Joel: *watches with a raised brow*
Ellie: And this one I like to call “flying fury of death”! *Waves her knife as she comes running up beside Joel*
Joel: Uh huh… He’s coming back!
Ellie: *Gasps before quickly running behind Joel* Where?!
Joel: *chuckles quietly*Typical
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