The Hogwarts Express rattled on as Sirius lounged with his boots up, taking up more than his fair share of the compartment. The door slid open, and you stepped in with your trunk, the muffled chatter from the corridor fading as the door slid shut behind you.

“Seat taken?” you asked, glancing at him.

He smirked, tipping his head slightly. “Just me. Go ahead.”

You dragged your trunk inside and settled into the seat across from him. His sharp grey eyes flicked over you with casual interest.

“New here?” he asked after a moment, his tone light, as though this was just another passing distraction.

“Yeah,” you replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Transferred from Beauxbatons.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, and he let out a low chuckle. “Beauxbatons, huh? Fancy,” he said, his smirk widening. “Sirius. Sixth year. Gryffindor.”

“Kya. Sixth year,” you said simply, leaning back. “Not much else.”

“Not yet,” he teased, stretching out even further. He tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost curious. “So, what’s Beauxbatons like? All glitter and grace? Or are there actual people under all the polish?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a school, not a ballroom.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, grinning again. He paused, looking past you briefly, then leaned back as if to make a point. “My mates—James, Remus, and Peter—went off to hunt down the snack trolley. Left me to hold the fort. They’re considerate like that.”

“Sounds like it,” you said, your tone dry but amused.

Sirius’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, he seemed pleased to have coaxed a reaction out of you. “They’ll turn up eventually. In the meantime,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “guess it’s just you and me.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“See? You’re already fitting in,” Sirius said with a wink, settling comfortably back into his seat.