(why am i writing this no one is going to see this) but fuck it we ball
She/her
Bisexual
you can call me nathalie or nijntje/nijn
im from the Netherlands
my favourite animal is a puffin
my favourite colour is mint green
Food i love,
pasta pesto, pannenkoeken and onion soup
Foods i hate,
mushrooms, quishe and any slimy food
my fandoms are marauders, Riordonverse, Carmen Sandiego, Enola Holmes, grishaverse, Skam, Derry Girls , Anne of green gables, the Queens gambit, etc etc i cant remember them all
FUCK JKR i do not support her or her ideologies nor will i ever and that goes for anyone who has hateful and wrong ideologies
My birthday is 16 march
My favourite season is spring
My MBTI is ISFP-T
Artists i like right now are
doe maar, conan gray, arctic monkeys, the kinks, olivia rodrigo
Songs i have on repeat right now are:
Venus, Fever, poison, my way, expectations, be like a woman, is it a crime
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Hey, fat people deserve to have fun and get their needs met even if they’re the least healthy mf you know. Fat people deserve proper medical care, and carbs, and to wear shorts and so many more things! EVEN IF THEY ARE UNWELL AND ESPECIALLY IF THAT UNWELLNESS IS DUE TO THEIR WEIGHT!!! Fat people deserve the world and more. Not just the healthy fats or attractive fats or small fats or fats that are fat because of medication or disability.
the idea that every summer will be as hot if not hotter than this for the rest of my life is unbearable i need to (remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health) murder an oil executive
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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i feel so bad for nikola tesla like imagine spending years beefing with a guy who has conned the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and you end up dying broke and starving and alone and then 100 years later another guy cons the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and he's doing it all IN YOUR NAME. he must be rolling in his grave like a fucking rotisserie chicken
By the time the final performance arrived, the classroom had suffered through nearly every musical genre Muggles had ever invented and several that, according to Lily Evans, had absolutely not existed until that afternoon.
The lesson had begun sensibly enough.
That had been its first mistake.
The desks had been pushed back against the walls, leaving an open performance space at the front of the room. A piano stood on one side, a collection of guitars rested upon stands on the other, and a full drum set had been assembled in the middle with enough cymbals to make Peter look nervous every time someone walked too close to it.
The combined English and music lesson had been arranged as part of Muggle Studies, intended to demonstrate the ways writing and music could be altered, expanded and performed with magic. They had discussed rhythm charms, enchanted accompaniment, self-turning manuscript pages, instruments capable of replaying recorded melodies and the differences between writing poetry for parchment and writing words intended to be sung aloud.
Then came the assignment.
Each student had been ordered to write and perform a song based upon their own life or experiences, using whatever genre they liked and incorporating at least one piece of magic into the performance.
The results had been deeply mixed.
Sirius had gone first because he had announced that nobody else could be trusted to establish the correct standard.
His song had been loud.
That was the kindest thing anyone could say about it.
He had attempted something resembling Muggle rock, using an amplification charm that made the guitar nearly shake itself apart while he shouted three verses about leaving places he disliked, refusing to obey people he disliked and being exceptionally attractive while doing both.
The song had lasted forty-eight seconds.
It had contained four chords, although Sirius had only played three of them correctly.
When he finished by throwing his head back and striking what was clearly intended to be a dramatic final note, the enchanted guitar produced a noise like a wardrobe being dragged down a staircase.
James leapt to his feet anyway.
“Brilliant!”
“You are his friend,” Lily said. “Your judgement is compromised.”
“I am his brother,” James corrected proudly. “My judgement is nonexistent.”
Sirius bowed so low that his hair nearly brushed the floor.
“Thank you. I accept admiration in all forms.”
“You missed half the notes,” Remus observed.
“The notes missed me.”
“You cannot blame the notes.”
“I can blame anything I like. I’m an artist.”
Regulus, seated with Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas near the windows, had watched his brother return to his chair with one eyebrow slightly raised.
Sirius noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the face.”
“I have only one face.”
“The judgemental one.”
“That is still my only face.”
Barty snorted loudly. Evan hid a smile behind his hand. Pandora applauded Sirius with dreamy sincerity, apparently delighted by the wardrobe-falling-down-stairs effect. Dorcas leaned towards Regulus and muttered something that made the corner of his mouth twitch.
James performed next.
He had written something between an anthem and a Quidditch chant, enchanted several wooden spoons to beat against overturned cauldrons behind him and spent most of the song shouting his own name in a rhythm that did not entirely match the accompaniment.
The performance ended when one spoon flew free, struck the ceiling and dropped directly into Fabian’s lap.
Fabian picked it up.
“Encore.”
“There will not be an encore,” Lily said.
“There could be.”
“There must not be.”
James looked delighted with himself.
“It was about my life.”
“It was about your hair,” Mary said.
“My hair is an important part of my life.”
“It had two verses.”
“Exactly.”
“Both verses were identical.”
“Consistency.”
Peter’s song was a nervous little folk number about preferring quiet rooms, warm food and friends who did not drag him into dangerous situations. His enchanted tambourine floated beside him and shook itself half a beat too late through the entire performance.
Peter’s voice was not terrible.
It was not particularly good either.
It was soft, uncertain and repeatedly swallowed by the tambourine, which appeared to become increasingly enthusiastic the more anxious Peter looked.
When he finished, everyone applauded warmly.
Peter exhaled so hard his shoulders collapsed.
“That was nice,” Alice told him.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“The tambourine was trying to kill the song,” Marlene said.
Peter glared at it.
The tambourine gave one final smug rattle.
Remus performed a quiet piece that was more spoken poetry than music. He enchanted the classroom lights to dim and used the piano to provide three repeating notes beneath lines about sleeplessness, books and wanting everyone around him to be silent for five consecutive minutes.
His voice was steady but flat, and the melody never went anywhere.
It was still good enough for a respectable mark.
Sirius clapped with exaggerated emotion.
“I felt that.”
“You talked through half of it,” Remus said.
“I felt it loudly.”
“The entire second verse was about you.”
“I recognised myself immediately.”
“You should be ashamed.”
“I was honoured.”
Lily wrote a Muggle-style protest ballad with sharply intelligent words, a clear structure and absolutely no ability to remain in the correct key.
She began well.
By the second chorus, Mary was wincing.
By the final note, Marlene had both fists pressed against her mouth.
Lily lowered the guitar.
“Well?”
James stared at her with pure devotion.
“Perfect.”
“Liar.”
“Beautiful.”
“Liar.”
“Life-changing.”
“James.”
“You could have broken every window in the castle and I would still ask for another verse.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed.
“That was not the compliment you thought it was.”
Mary performed a bright pop song with enchanted sparkles bursting around her shoulders on every chorus. The song was catchy enough, though she forgot the second half of her own final verse and replaced it with the same sentence three times while smiling as though she had planned it.
Marlene danced in her seat.
“I liked that.”
“I forgot the words.”
“You committed to forgetting them.”
“That counts for something,” Fabian agreed.
“It does not,” Lily said.
“It ought to.”
Marlene’s performance was fast, aggressive and roughly punk. She struck the first chord so hard that one of the strings snapped, continued without it and shouted a song about arguments, rule-breaking and people who deserved to be punched.
Sirius joined in during the chorus despite never having heard it before.
Marlene pointed at him while singing.
“See? He understands the message.”
“I am the message.”
“You are frequently the reason for the message.”
Mary cheered. James hammered both hands against his desk. Gideon attempted to start a mosh pit with Fabian despite there being only two of them, and Frank had to shove both brothers back into their chairs before they knocked over the drum set.
Alice tried something jazzy.
Her song was about indecision, changing her mind and pretending she had meant to do that all along. She used a charm to make the piano accompany her, but the enchanted instrument played considerably faster than she had expected.
Alice spent the entire performance chasing it.
She reached the ending slightly breathless, one line behind the piano and laughing too hard to pronounce the final word.
Frank applauded before anyone else.
“That was wonderful.”
“The piano betrayed me.”
“You caught up.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You nearly caught up.”
“I was three lines behind.”
“You looked wonderful while losing.”
Alice laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek.
Frank’s own song followed. It was simple, earnest and somewhere near Muggle country music, accompanied by a gently strummed guitar and a charm that made tiny golden lights drift across the ceiling.
He sang about loyalty, patience and always turning up when somebody needed him.
His voice was pleasant in places and painfully low in others.
Alice watched him as though he had personally invented music.
Marlene leaned towards Mary.
“Those two are disgusting.”
“Completely.”
“I hope they never stop.”
“Same.”
Fabian and Gideon had technically written separate songs.
They performed them simultaneously.
Neither had informed the professor of this plan.
Fabian’s was a dramatic theatrical piece about being the cleverer twin. Gideon’s was a loud dance song about being the stronger twin. Both had enchanted instruments to follow them, but because they had begun at the same time, the instruments became confused and switched performers halfway through.
Fabian received Gideon’s aggressive drumbeat.
Gideon received Fabian’s delicate piano.
Neither stopped.
They simply adapted by shouting louder.
“That was sabotage!” Fabian accused when they finished.
“You began during my introduction!”
“You inhaled too slowly.”
“I was preparing myself!”
“For what? You cannot sing.”
“You cannot sing!”
“You both proved that,” Dorcas called.
The twins turned towards her together.
“Cruel,” Fabian said.
“Accurate,” Gideon added.
Barty performed something sharp and theatrical, pacing at the front of the room while an enchanted violin played quick, dramatic bursts behind him. His song concerned being misunderstood, underestimated and entirely justified in every terrible decision he had ever made.
It was possibly meant to be cabaret.
It sounded more like a threat delivered with musical accompaniment.
Barty could carry a tune when he concentrated.
He did not concentrate for long.
Halfway through, he became too invested in glaring at Sirius and began singing faster than the violin could follow.
When the final note ended, the bow flung itself off the instrument and landed at his feet.
Barty looked down at it.
“You failed me.”
“You frightened it,” Peter said.
“I inspired it.”
“You threatened to burn it during the second verse.”
“That was part of the performance.”
Sirius leaned back in his chair.
“Was the entire song about me?”
“Not everything is about you.”
“You stared directly at me while singing the line about irritating bastards.”
“You happened to be sitting there.”
“I moved twice.”
“And I maintained eye contact. Coincidence.”
Evan’s song was quieter and darker, driven by a low enchanted rhythm that pulsed from a guitar without anyone touching it. His voice was smooth enough, but he kept choosing notes below his natural range and sounded increasingly like he was trying to sing from the bottom of a well.
Pandora listened with her head tilted.
When he finished, she said, “I liked the part where you sounded haunted.”
“That was not intentional.”
“That made it better.”
Regulus gave Evan a thoughtful nod.
“The accompaniment was good.”
“The accompaniment was me.”
“The recorded version of you was good.”
Evan looked offended for almost two seconds before laughing.
Pandora’s performance involved wind chimes, a glass bottle, an enchanted spoon, three humming crystals and no identifiable genre.
She sang six soft lines about stars becoming lost inside people’s pockets.
The crystals harmonised.
The spoon did not.
The spoon repeatedly struck the bottle at seemingly random intervals, and by the end of the performance James looked genuinely moved despite clearly understanding none of it.
Dorcas went next with a blues song consisting of one verse, one repeated chorus and several lines insulting everyone who had annoyed her that week.
Her voice was low and decent, but the enchanted guitar kept adding flourishes after every insult as though agreeing with her.
When she sang a line about Fabian and Gideon sharing a single thought between them, the guitar produced a delighted little riff.
Fabian placed a hand over his heart.
“The instrument mocks us.”
“The instrument has taste,” Dorcas said.
Gideon pointed at Regulus.
“You’re the only one left.”
Every head turned.
Regulus had spent the entire afternoon sitting with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, offering occasional comments while looking far too calm for someone who had yet to perform.
He looked towards the front of the classroom.
The drum set waited beneath the lights.
Beside it stood one of the guitars.
Sirius folded his arms.
“This ought to be interesting.”
Regulus rose.
Barty immediately grinned.
Evan sat straighter.
Pandora clasped her hands beneath her chin.
Dorcas’s eyes narrowed with unmistakable anticipation.
James glanced between them.
“Why do all of you look like you know something?”
“We know Regulus,” Barty said.
“That did not answer the question.”
“It answered it perfectly.”
Regulus crossed the open space without hurrying. He wore the faint, private smile of someone approaching a joke whose ending only he knew.
Instead of reaching for the piano or standing before the microphone, he walked around the drum set and sat behind it.
Peter blinked.
“You play drums?”
Regulus adjusted the height of the stool.
“Yes.”
“Since when?” Sirius demanded.
“Since I was little.”
Sirius stared at him.
“You have never mentioned that.”
“You have never asked.”
“You play the drums?”
“That remains the answer.”
He picked up the drumsticks and rolled one smoothly across his fingers.
The motion was effortless.
James leaned towards Sirius.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Do you know anything about your brother?”
“I know plenty.”
Regulus caught the spinning drumstick without looking at him.
“Name three things.”
Sirius opened his mouth.
Nothing emerged.
Remus covered a laugh with one hand.
Regulus reached into his robes and withdrew his wand. He directed it towards the guitar resting on the stand beside the drums.
The instrument lifted gently into the air.
Its strap moved as though settling over invisible shoulders. The tuning pegs turned themselves in tiny, precise movements, and the strings gave a faint hum.
Lily watched closely.
“A playback enchantment?”
Regulus nodded.
“A recorded performance.”
“You recorded yourself playing the guitar part?”
“Yes.”
“And now the guitar will reproduce it?”
“Yes.”
James looked impressed already.
“You played both parts?”
Regulus glanced at him.
“I wrote both parts.”
That silenced the room for a moment.
Then Barty laughed under his breath.
“Oh, this is going to be unbearable.”
“For us or them?” Evan asked.
“Yes,” Dorcas said.
Regulus tapped one drumstick lightly against the edge of a cymbal.
The guitar answered with a low, sleek chord.
Every scattered conversation died.
The second chord came sharper, carrying a pulse that none of the earlier performances had possessed. It sounded deliberate. Finished. Not like a classroom exercise or a few hurried verses assembled the night before, but like the opening of an actual song.
Regulus began with a restrained rhythm, light hands moving over the drums while the enchanted guitar slid beneath them.
Then he leaned towards the microphone fixed beside the set.
His smile sharpened.
Softly, almost under his breath, he purred, “Aqui, gatito.”
Sirius made a strangled noise.
Regulus’s eyes flicked directly to him.
Sirius’s mouth dropped open.
“No.”
James whipped around.
“What?”
“He stole that.”
“From where?”
“From me!”
Regulus struck the snare once.
The sound cracked through the room.
His voice flowed after it, deep and smooth enough to make every face change at once.
“Night eyes.”
Mary’s eyebrows shot upwards.
Marlene stopped slouching.
Alice’s lips parted.
Frank stared.
Peter looked between Regulus and Sirius as if expecting an explanation to appear between them.
Regulus repeated it, still soft, still teasing. “Night eyes.”
The guitar rolled into the next phrase. His wrists moved faster, the rhythm building beneath his voice.
“Come on and hit me with them.”
Barty’s grin widened until it looked painful.
Evan lowered his head, shoulders shaking.
Pandora appeared entirely enchanted.
Dorcas whispered, “He actually did it.”
“Did what?” Remus asked.
Regulus answered before she could.
“Night eyes.”
His voice rose just slightly, smooth and effortless, carrying clearly across the room without strain.
“The night is young, you’ve only just begun.”
James turned slowly towards Sirius.
“Your brother can sing.”
“I can hear that.”
“No, I mean he can actually sing.”
“I can hear that too.”
Sirius looked personally betrayed by the existence of Regulus’s voice.
The drums remained controlled and restrained, but every beat landed exactly where it should. Regulus did not merely keep time. He bent it around himself, letting one pause stretch just long enough to pull everyone forward before snapping back into the rhythm.
He looked across the room and sang, “You’re fancy and you look so fine.”
James froze.
Regulus grinned directly at him.
James pointed at himself.
“Was that—”
“Yes,” Lily said immediately.
“I said that.”
“We know.”
“I said that to him.”
“We know, James.”
Regulus’s hands moved into a quicker pattern.
“Crawling through the streets to your own silky beat.”
James sat back with both hands over his mouth, already losing the fight against laughter.
Peter stared at Regulus as the next line came.
“The spirit of a wild feline.”
Peter’s face turned scarlet.
Everyone looked at him.
Peter sank lower in his chair.
“I was tired.”
“You called him the spirit of a wild feline?” Marlene demanded.
“It made sense at the time.”
“It makes no sense now.”
“It was after he climbed through a window!”
Regulus struck the toms in a low, rolling sequence and looked towards Remus.
“Haunt me, hunt me, thrill me, kill me.”
Remus’s eyes widened.
Sirius’s head snapped around so quickly his hair struck James in the face.
“You said that to my brother?”
“It was a joke.”
“What kind of joke?”
“The sort I deeply regret making within his hearing.”
Regulus’s grin became wicked.
Lily sat very still as he looked at her next.
“Fill me with desire.”
The entire classroom erupted.
Lily slapped both hands over her face.
James stared at her in open horror.
“You said that?”
“Not like that!”
“How else can it possibly be said?”
“We were discussing descriptive phrasing!”
“To Regulus?”
“He asked whether a sentence sounded dramatic enough!”
“And that was your suggestion?”
“I did not know he was collecting evidence!”
Regulus’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but the rhythm never faltered.
His eyes moved to Mary.
“Hypnotize me with them eyes, please.”
Mary made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a laugh.
Marlene grabbed her arm.
“You said that?”
“He was staring at me!”
“So your response was to ask for more?”
“I panicked!”
Regulus’s voice lifted, warm and playful, while his drumming grew more energetic.
“Baby, take me higher.”
Marlene shot upright.
“No.”
Mary twisted towards her.
“You?”
“It was sarcastic.”
“Was it?”
“Yes!”
Regulus raised one eyebrow at her without missing a beat.
Marlene pointed furiously.
“Do not do that face!”
His smile widened.
He turned to Alice.
“You’re walking slick fantastica.”
Alice went bright pink.
Frank looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know!”
“You said it.”
“I was trying to compliment his coat!”
“You invented a word?”
“I panicked too!”
Mary reached across the space between their chairs and held out her hand.
Alice slapped her palm against it in immediate solidarity.
Regulus’s voice became brighter, louder, filling the room as the guitar line swept upwards.
“You got the street reaction, yeah.”
Frank’s expression went blank.
Alice slowly turned towards him.
“That one was you.”
Frank rubbed the back of his neck.
“I may have said something similar.”
“Something similar?”
“Exactly that,” Regulus corrected from behind the drums.
Frank closed his eyes.
Fabian was already laughing before Regulus looked at him.
“You always take us by surprise.”
Fabian placed both hands against his chest.
“That could have been anyone.”
“You said it yesterday,” Gideon reminded him.
“Traitor.”
“You said it while staring at his trousers.”
“I was surprised by the tailoring!”
Regulus’s foot worked the bass drum steadily, driving the song forward. He looked to Gideon next, his grin becoming almost feral.
“Moving like a panther.”
Gideon stopped laughing.
Fabian turned upon him with delight.
“Oh, you enormous hypocrite.”
“I was talking about Quidditch.”
“You were watching him walk.”
“He was walking towards the pitch.”
“Like a panther?”
“He moves quietly!”
Regulus tossed one drumstick into the air, caught it and struck the cymbal in the same movement.
The crash hit perfectly with the guitar.
Every student flinched and then stared harder.
Barty was next.
Regulus leaned towards the microphone, his voice dropping into something low and deliberately inviting.
“Do you wanna dance, yeah?”
Barty’s grin vanished.
Evan looked at him.
Dorcas looked at him.
Pandora looked at him.
Slowly, the entire Gryffindor side of the classroom turned towards him.
Barty crossed his arms.
“I stand by that.”
“You asked him that?” Sirius said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to dance.”
“With my brother?”
“Yes.”
Sirius appeared unable to process the simplicity of the answer.
Regulus’s voice swept into the hook, louder now.
“You’re gonna get me with those night eyes.”
The drums struck hard behind the words.
“Night eyes, Night eyes,” he sang, the guitar answering each phrase with a sharp, slick riff. “C’mon and hit me with them.”
James had begun bouncing in his chair.
Marlene was drumming both palms against her knees.
Mary looked torn between humiliation and delight.
Alice had hidden part of her face against Frank’s shoulder, though she continued watching through her fingers.
Lily was staring at Regulus with the affronted fascination of someone who had just discovered she had accidentally contributed to something far better than her own performance.
Remus had given up pretending not to laugh.
Peter looked amazed.
Fabian and Gideon were clutching each other.
Sirius remained frozen in outrage.
“Night eyes.”
Regulus shifted the beat.
The song became faster.
The guitar sharpened into something sleek and restless, and Regulus’s drumming followed it with effortless precision.
He looked straight at Evan.
“Dangerously pretty like a big bad kitty.”
Evan shut his eyes.
Barty collapsed sideways against him, howling.
Regulus continued, “Causing trouble wherever you roam.”
Dorcas slapped one hand against the desk.
“You actually said that?”
Evan opened his eyes and looked calmly at her.
“It was accurate.”
“You called him a big bad kitty.”
“I was making fun of him.”
Regulus gave him a slow, knowing look.
Evan’s composure cracked.
“Stop smiling like that.”
Pandora was already swaying happily to the beat when Regulus turned towards her.
“You’re sweet and vicious, infectiously delicious.”
Pandora clapped once in delight.
“I remember that.”
Evan stared at his sister.
“You said that to Regulus?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was being sweet and vicious.”
Regulus sang, “I think I wanna take you home.”
Pandora nodded thoughtfully.
“And I did want to take him home.”
“To do what?” Sirius demanded.
“Show him my collection of glass insects.”
There was a brief pause.
“That is somehow less reassuring,” Sirius said.
“It shouldn’t be.”
Regulus’s sticks moved in a blur, but his face remained relaxed. There was no tension in his shoulders, no visible effort in his voice. He played as though the drums belonged beneath his hands and had merely been waiting for him to arrive.
“Haunt me, hunt me, thrill me, kill me,” he sang again.
Remus covered his face.
“Fill me with desire.”
Lily dropped her forehead against the desk.
“Hypnotize me with them eyes, please.”
Mary wheezed into Marlene’s shoulder.
“Baby, take me higher.”
Marlene shouted, “It was sarcasm!”
Regulus laughed directly into the next line, the sound becoming part of the song.
“You’re walking slick fantastica.”
Alice groaned.
“You got the street reaction, yeah.”
Frank looked at the ceiling.
“You always take us by surprise.”
Fabian blew Regulus a kiss.
“Moving like a panther.”
Gideon threw a crumpled piece of parchment at him.
Regulus tilted his head, and the parchment missed.
The drumbeat never changed.
Fabian pointed triumphantly.
“Like a panther!”
Gideon shoved him.
Regulus’s eyes returned to Barty.
“Do you wanna dance, yeah?”
Barty called back, “Still yes!”
Sirius looked ready to climb over three desks.
Regulus hit the chorus harder.
“You’re gonna get me with those night eyes.”
The guitar surged, the enchanted strings flashing beneath the classroom lights as though plucked by invisible fingers.
“Night eyes.”
The final word rang over the drums.
Then the rhythm dropped.
Not stopped.
Dropped.
Regulus pulled everything back to a low, dangerous pulse, and the sudden restraint made the whole room lean closer.
Dorcas straightened because she recognised what was coming before anyone else did.
Regulus looked at her.
His grin returned.
“You’re coat is black galactica.”
Dorcas’s jaw fell open.
Regulus continued smoothly, “Hypnotically spectacular.”
Barty shrieked.
Evan struck the desk with one palm.
Pandora laughed so hard she had to cling to Dorcas’s sleeve.
Dorcas pointed at Regulus.
“You swore you would forget that.”
“I swore nothing.”
“You said you wouldn’t repeat it.”
“I’m singing it.”
“That is repeating it with extra steps!”
The drums began to climb again.
Regulus’s voice followed.
“You’re like a devil in disguise.”
Dorcas stood halfway from her chair.
“I was drunk on exhaustion!”
“Drunk on exhaustion?” Mary repeated.
“It had been a long day.”
“You wrote him an entire verse!”
“I said three things!”
“He turned them into a verse!”
Regulus struck a rapid sequence across the drums.
“Moving like a panther.”
Gideon groaned.
“Do you wanna dance, yeah?”
Barty spread both arms.
“Whenever you’re ready!”
“You’re gonna get me with those night eyes.”
Sirius seized the edge of James’s desk.
“I hate this song.”
“You love this song.”
“I hate how much I love this song.”
Regulus’s voice slipped lower again.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
The professor’s expression changed.
Lily noticed first.
She turned.
“Oh.”
The professor stared at Regulus.
He stared back.
The class slowly followed his gaze.
Regulus repeated it with a smile. “Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
The professor cleared their throat.
James looked delighted.
“That was yours?”
“It was a passing comment.”
Regulus rolled the rhythm beneath the phrase again.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
“What did it mean?” Peter asked.
The professor did not answer.
Regulus did, singing it with increasing energy.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
Pandora swayed in her seat, mouthing the words.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
The professor looked as though they regretted creating the assignment.
Fabian began chanting along despite having no idea what he was saying.
Gideon joined him.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
Soon James was singing it too.
Then Marlene.
Then Mary.
The phrase filled the room around the drums.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
Regulus drove the beat faster.
“Un trance salvaje, un trance salvaje.”
The guitar broke into a sharp, racing progression.
His hair had fallen partly across his forehead, his grin wide and bright and completely insufferable. He looked around at every person whose words he had stolen, watching recognition and embarrassment and disbelief chase one another across their faces.
Then he launched back into the chorus with enough force to silence them all.
“Haunt me, hunt me, thrill me, kill me.”
His voice was louder now, rich and smooth even over the full crash of the drums.
“Fill me with desire.”
Lily lifted her head and shouted, “I hate you!”
Regulus only grinned.
“Hypnotize me with them eyes, please.”
Mary pointed at him with both hands.
“I take it back!”
“No, you don’t,” Marlene said.
“I absolutely do!”
“Baby, take me higher.”
Marlene threw her head back.
“I am never speaking near him again!”
“You won’t last an hour,” Alice said.
“You’re walking slick fantastica.”
Alice buried her face fully against Frank this time.
Frank was laughing too hard to comfort her.
“You got the street reaction, yeah.”
Frank lifted one hand in surrender.
“You always take us by surprise.”
Fabian climbed onto his chair.
“He does!”
“Get down,” Lily told him.
“Moving like a panther.”
Gideon climbed onto his chair too.
“He does!”
“Both of you get down!”
“Do you wanna dance, yeah?”
Barty stood.
Sirius stood immediately after him.
“No.”
Barty looked across the room.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“You are not dancing with him.”
Regulus sang through their argument, “You’re gonna get me with those night eyes.”
James grabbed the back of Sirius’s robes before he could climb over the desks.
The chorus crashed around them.
“Night eyes.”
Regulus’s foot struck the bass drum.
The guitar answered.
He turned towards Dorcas again.
“You’re coat is black Galactica.”
Dorcas covered her eyes.
“Hypnotically spectacular.”
Pandora leaned into her side.
“It was a lovely thing to say.”
“It was not supposed to become public.”
“You’re like a devil in disguise.”
Dorcas looked through her fingers.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“You’ll have to wait until the song ends,” Evan said.
“Moving like a panther.”
Gideon was still standing on the chair.
“Do you wanna dance, yeah?”
Barty was still standing too.
“Yes!”
“You’re gonna get me with those night eyes.”
Regulus’s hands flew over the drums.
The sound was enormous now, but never messy. Every strike was clean. Every cymbal crash landed precisely with the guitar. His voice moved above it, deep one moment, bright the next, teasing around the edges of every phrase.
“Night eyes, night eyes.”
James released Sirius only so he could hammer both palms against the desk in time with the beat.
“Come on and hit me with them.”
Marlene and Mary shouted the final words with him.
Alice was laughing openly now.
Frank clapped over his head.
Peter’s stunned expression had transformed into an enormous grin.
Remus watched Regulus with narrowed, impressed eyes, his earlier embarrassment lost beneath amusement.
Lily shook her head, but she was smiling despite herself.
Fabian and Gideon were both dancing on their chairs.
Barty looked seconds away from joining Regulus at the front.
Evan had abandoned all pretence of dignity and was laughing into one hand.
Pandora sang along as though she had known the song for years.
Dorcas pointed threateningly at Regulus while mouthing every word.
Sirius stared at his younger brother with a mixture of disbelief, annoyance and reluctant pride so complicated that James began laughing merely from looking at him.
Regulus drew the rhythm back for one last instant.
The guitar held a single low chord.
He leaned towards the microphone.
His eyes moved slowly across the room, catching every face, every person whose carelessly spoken words had become part of his song.
His smile turned soft, sly and triumphant.
“Night eyes.”
The guitar struck its final chord.
Regulus brought both drumsticks down.
The final crash shook the classroom.
Silence followed.
Not the awkward silence that had followed Sirius’s collapsing-wardrobe chord.
Not the sympathetic silence after a forgotten lyric.
Not the careful pause while everyone decided whether an experimental spoon had finished performing.
This was stunned silence.
Regulus sat behind the drums, breathing only slightly faster than before, one drumstick resting across his knee.
He looked unbearably pleased with himself.
James was the first to move.
He launched out of his chair.
“What the fuck?”
The room exploded.
Everyone began speaking at once.
“You can sing?” Sirius shouted.
“You wrote that?” Mary demanded.
“You used my exact words!” Lily said.
“You used everyone’s exact words!” Remus corrected.
“That was a real song!” Peter exclaimed.
“Play it again!” Fabian yelled.
“Immediately!” Gideon added.
“Absolutely not,” Dorcas said.
“Yes,” Pandora said.
“Never again,” Alice insisted.
“Tomorrow,” Frank suggested.
“I want a copy,” Marlene said.
“You are not getting a copy,” Sirius snapped.
“I’m getting ten copies.”
“Dance with me,” Barty called over everyone.
“Sit down,” Evan told him, though he was still laughing.
Regulus calmly placed both drumsticks across the snare.
James pushed through the noise.
“No, wait. Wait. Everyone stop.”
Nobody stopped.
James raised his voice.
“Everyone stop!”
The room quietened enough for him to point dramatically at Regulus.
“You can sing.”
Regulus looked at him.
“Yes.”
“And play the drums.”
“Yes.”
“And play guitar.”
“Yes.”
“And write actual music.”
“Yes.”
James turned towards Sirius.
“What exactly have you been doing as an older brother?”
Sirius looked furious.
“He never told me!”
“You never asked,” Regulus repeated.
“How was I supposed to know to ask whether you secretly possessed an entire Muggle band?”
Regulus considered that.
“Observation.”
“You have never played drums in front of me!”
“I’ve played drums in the house.”
“When?”
“When you weren’t listening.”
“That does not narrow it down,” Remus said.
Barty stepped around his chair.
“Are we ignoring the important part?”
Sirius wheeled on him.
“You are not dancing with him.”
“I was going to mention how he publicly exposed every person in this room.”
“That too!”
Lily stood and marched towards the performance space.
Regulus watched her approach without moving.
She stopped before the drum set.
“You used my sentence.”
“Yes.”
“It was academic advice.”
“It fit the rhythm.”
“It sounds obscene.”
“That improved the rhythm.”
Marlene burst out laughing.
Lily pointed at Regulus.
“You planned this purely to humiliate us.”
“No.”
There was a brief pause.
Regulus’s mouth twitched.
“Humiliating you was an additional benefit.”
Mary joined Lily.
“Hypnotize me with them eyes, please?”
“You said it.”
“I was joking.”
“So was I.”
“You sang it like that!”
“Like what?”
Mary waved both hands helplessly.
“Like—like that.”
“Excellent feedback.”
Alice approached more cautiously.
“What is slick fantastica?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know!”
“Then we may never know.”
Frank rested a hand on Alice’s shoulder, laughing.
“I still think spirit of a wild feline was reasonable.”
Everyone looked at him.
Peter’s face reddened again.
“He was halfway through a window!”
Regulus nodded solemnly.
“Context is important.”
“Thank you.”
“It remains strange.”
Peter sighed.
Remus stayed beside his chair, arms folded.
“You have been remembering that sentence for months, haven’t you?”
“Which sentence?”
“You know which sentence.”
“Haunt me, hunt me, thrill me, kill me?”
Sirius recoiled again.
“Stop saying it!”
Regulus looked at Remus.
“I wrote it down immediately.”
“I assumed you might.”
“You did?” Sirius demanded.
Remus glanced at him.
“Your brother looks like someone who documents evidence.”
“He looks like someone who should burn evidence.”
Barty edged closer to the drums.
“Do you wanna dance, yeah?”
Regulus’s gaze shifted towards him.
Barty smiled.
Regulus smiled back.
Sirius stepped between them.
“No.”
Barty leaned sideways to look around him.
“I wasn’t asking him to marry me.”
“Do not give yourself ideas.”
“I already have ideas.”
“Barty,” Evan said.
“What?”
“Survival.”
“I’m considering it.”
“You should consider it more seriously.”
Pandora walked around Sirius as though he were furniture and stopped beside Regulus.
“I liked what you did with mine.”
“You gave me two complete lines.”
“I thought they were true.”
“They were.”
“You are sweet and vicious.”
Regulus inclined his head.
“And infectiously delicious,” she added.
Evan closed his eyes.
“Pandora.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Dorcas finally approached.
She stood directly in front of Regulus.
He looked up at her.
She looked down at him.
“You promised.”
“I didn’t.”
“You strongly implied.”
“I allowed you to assume.”
“Your coat is black galactica,” she repeated flatly.
“An excellent sentence.”
“It is barely a sentence.”
“It rhymes.”
“That does not make it good.”
“The class appeared to disagree.”
The class responded with scattered cheers.
Dorcas turned.
“None of you are helping.”
“Hypnotically spectacular,” Fabian sang.
Dorcas seized the nearest spare drumstick and threw it at him.
Fabian ducked.
Gideon caught it.
“Like a panther!”
The noise rose again.
James was trying to persuade Regulus to perform the song at every future school event. Lily was forbidding him from using her words in any public setting ever again. Mary and Marlene had begun arguing over which of their lines had sounded worse. Alice was still demanding an explanation for fantastica. Frank kept insisting it had been charming. Peter wanted to know how long Regulus had practised. Remus wanted to examine the guitar enchantment. Fabian and Gideon were chanting the chorus. Barty continued trying to reach Regulus around Sirius. Evan was laughing at all of them. Pandora had begun tapping the rhythm against the edge of the drum. Dorcas was threatening to destroy every written copy.
Regulus remained seated at the centre of it all.
He picked up the drumstick Gideon had caught when it was handed back to him.
The professor finally raised their voice.
“That is enough.”
Nobody heard.
“Enough!”
The room gradually quietened.
The professor looked at Regulus, then at the enchanted guitar, then at the classmates whose accidental compliments had just been turned into a complete performance.
Regulus waited.
The professor’s expression was caught somewhere between professional approval and personal betrayal.
“The assignment,” they said carefully, “was to write a song based upon your own life and experiences.”
“Yes.”
“And every line of that song was taken from something another person had said to you or about you?”
“Yes.”
“Without their knowledge?”
Regulus glanced around at the fifteen furious, embarrassed and delighted faces surrounding him.
“Evidently.”
Sirius pointed at him.
“He cannot receive full marks for theft.”
“It is not theft,” Regulus said. “It is quotation.”
“You turned my words into a chorus!”
“You contributed two words.”
“They were my two words.”
The professor rubbed one hand over their face.
“The accompaniment was original?”
“Yes.”
“The guitar performance was your own recording?”
“Yes.”
“The drum arrangement was original?”
“Yes.”
“The melody?”
“Yes.”
“The structure?”
“Yes.”
“And the incorporation of magic was the enchanted playback.”
“And the microphone charm.”
Lily glanced towards it.
“You charmed that too?”
“For vocal balance.”
James shook his head slowly.
“He thought of everything.”
“Except dignity,” Mary said.
“Whose dignity?” Regulus asked.
“Everyone else’s!”
“That was not required by the assignment.”
The professor stared at him for a long moment.
Then they wrote something upon the marking parchment.
Regulus’s grin deepened.
Sirius craned his neck.
“What did he get?”
“That is private.”
“He got full marks, didn’t he?”
“That is private.”
“He absolutely got full marks,” James said.
“He should,” Pandora replied.
“He should be imprisoned,” Dorcas said.
“He should perform it again,” Fabian argued.
“Again!” Gideon shouted.
Marlene joined him.
“Again!”
“No,” Lily said.
“Again!” James called.
“No!”
Mary hesitated.
Then she raised one fist.
“Again!”
Lily stared at her.
Mary shrugged.
“It is good.”
Alice slowly raised her hand too.
“I want to hear the fantastica line again.”
Frank lifted his hand beside hers.
Peter joined them.
Remus sighed and raised his own.
Evan looked at Barty.
Barty already had both hands in the air.
Pandora raised hers.
Dorcas refused for three seconds before muttering, “Fine,” and lifting one finger.
Sirius looked around in disbelief.
“You are all traitors.”
James slung an arm around him.
“You know you want to hear it again.”
“I do not.”
“You were tapping your foot.”
“I was preparing to kick Barty.”
Barty smiled.
“Jealousy is ugly on you.”
“I am going to throw you through a window.”
“Spirit of a wild feline,” Peter murmured.
Regulus laughed.
It was quiet at first, buried beneath the fresh eruption of argument, but the microphone caught it and carried it clearly around the classroom.
Everyone turned towards him.
He lifted one drumstick.
The guitar rose into position once more.
Sirius stared.
“You wouldn’t.”
Regulus’s eyes gleamed.
He tapped the cymbal.
The guitar answered.
And in a voice deep, soft and impossibly smug, he purred, “Aqui, gatito.”
I miss when ads were a single click and then they’re gone. Now every ad has a minimum of three phases where you watch a video, exit the still frame of fake gameplay, and then exit the app download. That doesn’t even touch on the ones that forcibly take you to another app after opening a tab in safari without you ever touching the screen.
I hate advertising. I hate that you can’t do anything without companies jumping down your throat with mostly bullshit ads. I hate that billboards exist. I hate that every company unanimously decided to make their ads longer and longer. I hate that ad blockers try to charge you money and there are in app purchases to remove ads. I hate that my attention has become commodified. I hate that there’s nothing I can do about it.
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fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this
not to be a buzzkill but i kinda hate when i see a video of teenagers goofing off or construction workers having fun and people in the replies are like "now THIS is what 'boys will be boys' should mean!" goofing off isn't a boys exclusive activity......... why did you immediately tie it to their boy-ness....... what's going on there huh............
