all's well that ends well (river)

[mitzeh]

Defense Against the Dark Arts was, objectively speaking, one of the most useful classes taught at Hogwarts. Regulus found it rather ironic that it was also one of the very few classes in which he, who valued usefulness above most things, spent more time staring out of the window or reading a book under the table in the back of the class than actually learning anything. Not because of the quality of lessons, no; even the haughty Slytherin had to admit that they were… decent. The teacher wasn’t perhaps the most memorable person in the world, but he knew enough to do his job properly – and he was still young enough to have some actual enthusiasm in him, which made the lessons interesting enough that many students were fascinated with whatever subject was brought up. Not the Black heir, however. He (and many of his Housemates, especially those coming from wealthy and influent magical families just like his) found the lessons more boring than intriguing, thanks to the education he had already received at home. Granted, his parents had always focused more on teaching him how to cast the dark spells they were now being warned against, but he had learnt to protect himself from them in the process as well. And even though these days he spent more time in Hogwarts than at home, he hadn’t given up his studies; quite the opposite actually. Regulus suspected that despite being fifteen he knew more about dark magic than their teacher; as a result, no matter what the lessons were about, it was never anything new to the boy. Which was quite frustrating. He hated that feeling of wasting his time, and he experienced it all the time during the DADA classes.

Today was, unsurprisingly, no different. Regulus covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the yawn as his gaze wandered around the classroom. He really wished he could just sit in the back and read instead of leaning against the wall and watching other students casting (more or less effectively) various protecting spells, as ordered by the teacher. With the memory of the attack on Hogsmeade still fresh in their minds, they – whoever ‘they’ were, really, because Regulus sure as hell hadn’t had a say in this – had decided that, in case something like this happened again, the students had to be prepared as much as possible. Apparently ‘prepared’ meant ‘able to deflect the spell and run like hell’, according to the people responsible for their teaching program. The young Slytherin was mostly indifferent to it, even though a part of him was irritated with sheer stupidity of such attitude, and if he never heard words ‘remember, don’t try to fight back, just run to safety’ in his life again it would be too soon. He would gladly suggest that they – fifth years, for Salazar’s sake, they weren’t children anymore! – learn more useful offensive spells, but he knew it would be met with a scrutinizing gaze and some pretty words that would be nothing but a sugar coating for “are you crazy, you silly boy, we’re not teaching you how to attack people!”. The school’s policy both bewildered and irritated him.

One of the reasons for him to keep his mouth shut was the fact that, well, he already knew how to defend himself and kick the potential attacker’s ass, so he had nothing to worry about, which, really, was all that mattered after all. Regulus wasn’t perhaps as cold-blooded as some of his peers, especially other Slytherins, but he wasn’t the most sympathetic person in the world either. So they thought shielding themselves from a spell would be enough? Well, fine. Enlightening people how foolish they were wasn’t Regulus’ goal, after all.

Though he had to admit that he could see the teacher’s point while seeing how some people were unable to even protect themselves effectively. Honestly, Protego was one of the most basic spells ever; how someone could get to their fifth year without being able to cast it properly was beyond his understanding, and the more advanced spells? Heavens forbid these people try to use them. Regulus sighed, closing his eyes and counting minutes until the end of his torture. Even without looking at his watch he knew it wouldn’t last much longer. Granted, after another few more minutes the teacher finally announced the end of the lesson, much to the Slytherin’s joy. Not like anyone could tell by his impassive face, but still. He moved to the back to fetch his bag, not paying attention to anyone.

[river]

Perhaps River should have stuck to her original idea and just left the box she was carrying with her carefully to all of today's classes next to Regulus Black's bag with a note. She did have the chance to do it, too. It wasn't as if she was Ms. Popular, so sneaking up somewhere wasn't a difficult task. Besides, she had spotted the Slytherin boy at his usual place upon entering the classroom, and she could've just slipped the box next to his bag without drawing any attention to her. It would have made things so much easier...

But there was a part of her, the same part that had insisted of doing something to show her gratitude towards Regulus for helping her at Hogsmeade, that demanded the girl should present her gift to the boy in person, despite her shyness. For better or worse, her decent upbringing was stronger than her instinct to hide. And yet, it didn't mean she wasn't nervous.

In fact, quite the opposite was the case. River found herself unable to concentrate on the subject that was taught in class today, even if Defence Against Dark Arts was a very important subject, now more then ever, as the recent attack had sadly shown. On a more personal level, her own experience during the attack had shown her that her inability to perform under pressure would get really hurt or worse when facing a capable ill-meaning witch or wizard. It was only a matter of time, really, as long as she didn't do anything to change her reactions in those particular situations. And so she had decided it was was of utter importance that she learns to step over herself. Watching the enthusiastic young teacher talk and gesture wildly in front of class, the Ravenclaw wondered, if he was actually a fit person to guide her during the process. Even if he did a great job with explaining complex things, and had the ability to make the students show interested in his subject (well, most of them anyway), he was a bit clueless when it came down to overcoming anxiety. River had experienced it first hand, after all. Usually, he'd just shout some encouraging phrases at her, but was completely helpless when they didn't work. The Arithmancer would have to come up with a strategy to overcome her fear on her own, she had decided.

By the time the class came to an end, River was unable to concentrate on anything entirely. Her quick mind was racing and thinking of all the possibilities how her plan of presenting Regulus with the fruit of her nightly labour would work out, what his reaction could be. In accordance to her thoughts, her heartbeat had quickened too, and her delicate palms began to sweat. Why was she so nervous? Surely, she was shy around somewhat strange people like Regulus was, but she hadn't experienced these levels of nervousness when it came down to simple social interactions yet. It was probably due to the chat she and Indica had in their shared room the other day. Instead of clearing the thoughts that had clouded her mind, it only served to intensify them.

Once her blue-grey eyes had spotted the boy she was looking for, River got up from her seat and quickly moved towards him, navigating between the students that were leaving the classroom. Because she didn't want to miss Regulus, in her haste, she accidentally pushed a girl with her shoulder. After murmuring an apology over her shoulder, she closed the distance between her and the Slytherin boy. For a blink of an eye, she stood there behind him, clenching the box in her hands, and taking a moment to breathe in slowly. This was going to be okay. “Regulus...” the blonde girl called the boy's name softly, yet loudly enough for him to hear her. Once he turned around, River immediately stretched her arms out, so that the shoe-box-sized case almost touched Regulus' chest. “I know this is no comparison to what you did to help me that night at Hogsmeade, but... please accept this small token of my gratitude,” even if her voice was as gentle as ever, the tone of it was earnest and reserved, more fit for an official announcement then a personal thank-you. River did tend to be at arm's length with people she didn't know well, after all, and the fact that she felt two pairs of eyes burning on her back and murmurs, coming from the girls she had bumped into a minute ago. So much for being discreet.

[mitzeh]

The girl’s voice was so soft, so quiet, that at first he had missed his name being called out. He turned with every intention of getting out of there, his bag already over his shoulder, only to be faced with a blonde Ravenclaw holding something out to him – which, really, what? Regulus blinked slowly, as if to make sure he wasn’t making the whole scene up in his mind, but no – River was still there, and the looks some other students were giving them made it clear that he wasn’t just imagining things. He dealt with that, at least, his glare discouraging some of the curious ones from eavesdropping. Not all of them, sadly, but that was enough.

The boy quickly moved his stare back to River, and his brows drew together as he cocked his head to a side ever so slightly, clearly wondering about the meaning of all this. The young Black was suspicious by nature, and all those years spent in Slytherin had only strengthened this trait of his; as a result, during these few seconds of trying to figure out River’s motives he had come up with many possibilities, and gratitude was the last one of them. Yet, he reached for the box reluctantly, not wanting to act impolite towards a girl that had done him no wrong so far. He might be a Slytherin, but above all he was a Black, and Blacks knew how to be gentlemen. (Sirius excluded, naturally, but he didn’t really count, right?) “That is… very kind of you, even if slightly unnecessary,” he answered slowly, once again shooting a quick glance at the mysterious package. He was rather hesitant to opening it in public, not least because he did not appreciate people sticking their noses into his business. “Thank you nonetheless. Whatever it is,” he added, nodding curtly.

Still holding the box – for he wasn’t really sure what else he was supposed to do with it – Regulus once again focused his attention on River, only this time not allowing anything to distract him. It could be slightly unsettling, this unwavering, scrutinizing gaze fixed solely on the girl standing in front of him; almost like he was trying to put her inside out, figure her out completely. Right now, River was a riddle waiting to be solved, and the young Black had never grasped the concept of giving up examining things before he knew everything there was to know about them. Of course, people were a case much more complex than theoretical problems; most of them tended to bore the boy rather quickly, as soon as he realized that they lacked any actual depth. He couldn’t, however, make such judgments at this moment, could he? “I did not expect anything in return,” he said then, wondering what kind of reaction these words would get him. He wasn’t lying; he hadn’t helped the girl to hold it against her later, which many people would have assumed seeing the green and silver linings of his robes. Perhaps that was River’s line of thinking, too. If so, the contents of the box would be, in a way, a notification of how much she valued her life. How curious.