The train rocks gently beneath you as it pulls away from the station, the sound of distant chatter echoing through the corridor. You’re tucked into a quiet compartment near the back—just you and her, as always. The window beside you fogs slightly from the early autumn chill, and outside, the world is already slipping into green hills and soft mist.

Narcissa slides the door shut behind her with the practiced grace she’s had since she was ten. She doesn’t sit right away—just stands there for a moment, smoothing her skirt, watching you like she’s trying to decide where to begin.

Then, with a soft smile, she finally settles across from you.

“Excited for another year?” she asks, tilting her head just a little. Her voice is light, almost teasing, but you know her well enough to hear the real question underneath. Before you can answer, she goes on—quieter this time, thoughtful.

“How was your summer? Truly, I mean. Not just the part you’d tell anyone else.”

She folds her hands in her lap, leaning forward slightly, eyes fixed on yours. It’s the way she always speaks when it’s just the two of you—calm, steady, like she actually cares about the answer.

Outside, the trees rush by in a blur. Inside, it’s still. Familiar. Safe.