There were still thirty minutes before the library closed.
By habit, this was usually when she and Regulus drifted away from homework and into other topics. A kind of break. A kind of information exchange.
More or less.
Lily was the one who spoke first. She lifted her head, leaned forward, and rested her upper body against the table. Her green eyes fixed on him. Her voice was low, almost a whisper.
"There's a girl in our dorm. Marcia Fawley. Do you know her?"
Regulus searched his memory.
Pure-blood family. The Fawleys had only one daughter this generation. He had seen her at a banquet last year, sitting quietly beside her mother.
"I know of her."
He met Lily's gaze and caught the faint, distinctly teenage frustration in her expression.
He found it unexpectedly amusing.
"She's not a bad person," Lily added quickly, straightening a little. Her tone turned serious. "Really. She's never said 'Mudblood.' She's never brought up blood status. But she's always… showing off."
"Showing off what?" Regulus asked.
"Everything." Lily spread her hands, caught somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement. "Today she talks about how her family keeps a Jobberknoll, how beautiful its feathers are, how extraordinary its cry is.
Tomorrow she mentions some little family charm her mother taught her that turns ink into rainbow colors.
Then the day after, it's a sixteenth-century magical poetry collection her grandfather gave her. How old the parchment is. How exquisite the illustrations are."
Regulus listened, his expression softening slightly.
"I don't hate her," Lily said, twisting a strand of red hair around her finger. "Those things do sound interesting. I just don't know how to respond.
Do I say, 'That's amazing'? That sounds fake.
Do I say, 'Can I see it?' She's not going to bring it to school.
And the way she says it… I know she's not bragging. It's more like she's sharing? But it still feels like, 'This is something only my family has.'"
Regulus considered for a few seconds.
"She might just be trying to be your friend. Using the only method she knows."
Lily tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"Pure-blood children, especially girls, are trained early in social etiquette. How to speak. How to give gifts. How to display family heritage while maintaining proper distance.
Marcia Fawley was probably taught to demonstrate her strengths at appropriate moments. To attract potential allies."
His tone was calm and measured. "The problem is, her strengths might not mean much to you. The Jobberknoll may be beautiful, but you've never seen it. A family charm might be impressive, but you can't learn it. An old book might be precious, but you'll never touch it."
"So what am I supposed to do?" Lily asked.
"Nothing," Regulus said. "Let her talk. Ask a question occasionally. Show that you're listening."
Lily was quiet for a moment. Then she laughed.
"Sometimes you really sound like an adult."
He gave a small shrug, neither dismissive nor smug, as if to say take it as you like.
She propped her chin on her hand. "Do you think Pure-blood families, even if they want to be friends with Muggle-borns, can only use their own methods? They won't adapt?"
Regulus looked at her steadily.
"Would you learn Pure-blood etiquette just to befriend Marcia?
Memorize genealogies. Study family crests. Learn how to hold a teacup just so. Lower your voice in that affected way?"
Lily opened her mouth, then closed it.
"See?" Regulus spread his hands. "You wouldn't. So why expect her to adapt to you? Because her family is influential? Because she ought to be more tolerant?"
"That's not what I meant…" Lily's voice softened.
But when she thought about it, she realized she hadn't demanded anything of Marcia at all. Regulus had just asked the questions.
Her confidence returned. She shot him an annoyed look.
"I know," Regulus said gently. "My point is, friendship goes both ways.
If you get along, talk more. If you don't, keep a polite distance.
Blood status and family background are context. Real friendship doesn't rest on those.
You don't have to like the way she shares things. You don't have to force yourself to accept it. You just have to decide whether she's someone worth your time."
Lily stared at him for so long he wondered if he had overstepped.
Then she smiled.
"Sometimes I seriously doubt you're only eleven."
"I'm twelve," Regulus corrected calmly.
"That's worse," she muttered, laughing under her breath.
They returned to their books.
When the closing bell rang, Madam Pince began her patrol, ushering students toward the door.
Regulus and Lily packed their things and left together.
At the fork where the corridor split toward the dungeons and the towers, Lily stopped.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome." He inclined his head and turned toward the Slytherin Common Room.
After a few steps, her voice followed him.
"Regulus."
He looked back.
"You too." She stood in the shadow near the staircase, her green eyes bright in the dim light. "If you ever feel like showing off something, like a new spell you've mastered, just say it. I won't think you're bragging."
He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly.
"I will."
He continued down the corridor, the hem of his black robes brushing the stone steps, his footsteps echoing in steady rhythm.
---
When Lily pushed open the dormitory door, Marcia Fawley was sitting on her bed, a book with a dark green cover resting in her hands.
She looked up, her expression caught somewhere between anticipation and hesitation.
"Good evening, Marcia," Lily said first, hanging her bag on the bedpost.
"Good evening, Lily." Marcia's voice was soft. She closed her book and ran her fingers over the cover.
Lily turned toward her casually. "By the way, that Jobberknoll you mentioned before. What does it actually look like? I've only seen the illustration in our textbook. It moves, but it's not very clear."
Marcia's eyes lit up.
She leaned forward slightly, placing the book on her lap and gesturing with both hands.
"It's about this big. Smaller than a regular crow. The feathers are deep blue, but in moonlight they shimmer silver."
Her voice dropped to something almost conspiratorial.
"The most special part is its cry. People say a Jobberknoll's wail is prophetic. That anyone who hears it will soon die.
But that's not quite true. The cry responds to impending sorrow, disaster, or death. It only sounds when a living creature nearby is on the brink of death, or when a great tragedy is about to occur.
Over time, people misunderstood it. They thought the cry caused death."
Lily sat on the edge of her bed and listened.
"The one at my house is called Silvie. My grandfather gave her to me for my fifth birthday," Marcia continued, speaking faster now.
"She's clever. She can recognize everyone's footsteps. When my father comes home from work, she flies to the perch in the entry hall before he even opens the door.
But she's picky about food. She only eats a certain kind of magical nut imported from France. And three times a week she needs fresh Rootless Grass Juice…"
She talked about how Silvie would fly to her shoulder and nudge her cheek when she was upset. About how last winter, when Silvie fell ill, she had sat by the fireplace all night holding her.
As Lily listened, she thought of Regulus's words.
Marcia wasn't showing off.
She was sharing, in the only way she knew how.
Sharing the parts of her life that were precious, unique, perhaps a little childish, but real.
This Pure-blood girl was reaching out to a Muggle-born friend in a careful, awkward way, cracking her world open just a little.
Realizing that, Lily felt something complicated stir in her chest.
Friendship should be simpler than this.
Marcia suddenly stopped, her cheeks faintly pink.
"Am I talking too much?"
"No." Lily shook her head and smiled. "It's interesting. I've never had a magical pet. My sister Petunia always wanted a cat, but my mum's allergic."
Marcia's shoulders relaxed. After a moment of hesitation, she patted the space beside her.
"Do you want to sit here? I have some sweets from home. From Honeydukes. You probably haven't tried them."
Lily crossed over and sat down.
Marcia opened a lacquered box on her bedside table and took out several beautifully wrapped candies.
They were delicious. A crisp sugar shell on the outside, and inside a flowing honey filling with a hint of mint.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, eating quietly for a while.
"Thank you, Lily," Marcia said suddenly, her voice small.
"For what?"
"For listening." She stared at the candy wrapper in her hands. "Most people aren't… very interested."
Marcia had tried to make friends the way she had been taught, only to find that those methods didn't quite work with Lily.
She didn't know what else to do, so she kept repeating what she knew.
"You can talk more next time," Lily said sincerely. "About Silvie. Or anything else. I like hearing about it."
Marcia turned to look at her, her eyes bright in the dim dormitory light. She nodded firmly.
Lily thought of Regulus again.
He always saw things from a different angle. And he was usually right.
She let out a small laugh.
Marcia blinked at her. "What is it?"
---
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