#regideon

      Gideon laughs. "Regulus, you've been at it nearly all afternoon! And I'd hardly call my hovering above the grass a 'lap.'" His blue eyes crinkle when he chuckles. "Though you're a surprisingly patient instructor, thank you."

      You nod, dumbly, and mount your broom again. You could be using your study block more wisely, but the team likes to fit in practice on the weekend when not interrupting class, so during study or free time on the weekends are the only chances when you get to spend your time as you see fit, with whom you see fit.

      Does Gideon think about these same things? You wonder, since he lightly jogs beside your broom, here and not inside the castle, with his twin or other mates, spending his own study block more wisely.

      You wonder a lot about Gideon Prewett, actually, though the more time you spend with the older Gryffindor only supplies you with more questions than answers.

      "Either you're taking it easy on me," Gideon quips with a pout at your lazy speed, "or you're winding down before your next—"

      His words are swallowed up, however, by the deafening B-TOOM! behind him, beyond the pitch and up past the Stone Circle. Hell, if that didn't come from the castle itself—

      Confirming the inevitable, McGonagall's bellow ricochets off the stone in the outside corridors. "POTTER! BLACK! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!!"

      You can't help craning your neck to peek over Gideon's shoulder, though all you spy is smoke. You furrow your brow and frown.

      Gideon frowns, too, but doesn't bother catching a look at your brother's destruction. "I've…never heard McGonagall that irate," he remarks of his Head of House.

      Your shoulders sag. The commotion up at the castle turns into a certified din, but you grit your teeth and focus on ignoring it. You turn back around and resume your flight, picking up speed as you grumble, "Yes, well, so it was once at home and so it still is at school."

      Gideon jogs harder at your side, huffing. He shakes his head. "What—What d'you mean by that?"

      More than his exertion, his question makes you slow. You search for the right words—again, tuning out the faint promises of detention and the haphazardly given apologies that you presume follow in the distant background—but then you lick your lips. Your search isn't long, because your answer comes quite easily. "Sirius has always been the center of attention, because he's such a troublemaker," you state.

      Gideon's eyes are on you, but he doesn't touch that one. How can he? It's a fact.

      But you, you drop your eyes to the woodgrain of your broom handle and purse your lips. "When you're young, they call you a 'handful.' The older you get, you turn into a 'pain in the arse' until, at some point I presume, you're the scum of the earth…"

      And there you freeze, because, with those words loosed from your lips and free from the confines of your private thoughts, you realize that you've shared too much of your inner musings with someone. Even if it is Gideon. Even if Gideon is the one person who's never judged you.

      (Yet, you fear.)

      Something in your chest sinks, sinks low, sinks deep into your stomach when Gideon frowns at you in the ensuing silence. But…he purses his lips and nods.

      He—He's not going to chastise you for your harsh words or your prediction of your brother's future?

      "It's hard, yeah."

      "Sorry?" Gideon's forever keeping you on your toes with his surprisingly friendly personality, but still you can't believe your ears.

      Yet Gideon nods a second time. "Having siblings that require attention. Perhaps all the attention." Then he offers that sweet smile of his in commiseration, small, soft, and empathetic.

      That smile— His words— It's all enough to take your mind off of what prompted the topic to start. Yet, more than that, something new catches your attention:

      Despite all this talk of Sirius, Gideon's eyes have never wandered off in the direction of the clamor, not once. They have remained only on you.

      …huh.

      Gideon shrugs. "I get it, I think, a little." He ticks fingers off his left hand with his right. "Molly's the eldest, sure, but she's the only witch of us three. And Fabian's my twin, of course, but he goes looking for 'fun' rather than letting it happen a little more organically." The last part he says with a wink, because Gideon's no stranger to mischief, but he's the type who prefers the latter, you're quickly working out these days.

      But you nod. And, still unsure what to do with Gideon's attention, you find the last dregs of energy in your limbs to usher your broom along at a snail's pace, assuring yourself it must be your imagination that Gideon walks half a step closer beside you now. You pry one of your hands free from your broom to brush back some of the black curls that fall into your eyes. "So…you know what it's like then, being a ghost when your siblings are in the room." It can't harm you any worse to sum things up, can it? Especially since Gideon's received this begrudging part of you so well this afternoon…

      "I do. But, Regulus, you're not a ghost to me."

      You freeze for the second time that day, but you're not scared this time, and neither instance has anything to do with November's countless chilly, overcast days this season.

      No, it has everything to do with the wizard standing beside you, with flaming hair you could pick out of a crowd and freckles that pop on this cloudy day. And those eyes—those eyes a burning, bright, deep blue that make your heart squeeze and gently guide your feet to the ground.

      "…t-thank you," you fumble before suggesting in the same breath you two ought to wend your way back to the castle before your next classes begin.

      Gideon's familiar smile is friendly as always but perhaps a tad gentler this time. His eyes slide to your feet and his walking side by side back up the hillside, as though he reckons by now you're not used to this kind of attention.

      Which…you're not. But, from Gideon, you suppose you could grow accustomed to that, too.

Done for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #95: lonesome) in the HPFC forum on FFN. Not a whole lot to say about this pre-Regideon piece except sibling relationships are complicated. Now, as to fitting this into the Maydayverse, slotting this into their early days of getting to know each other/gaining proximity during "we will be the last ones standing" just made a lot of sense once I got my basic premise down. Regideon is too sweet!! ;w; As for the angst…the Black brothers and Depeche Mode do that to me, *lol*; the title comes from the Depeche Mode song of the same name, btw. (Also I am not surprised the first thing I write after "closed minds, open hearts" was Regideon, *LOL*.)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!