It was the beginning of their seventh and final year at Hogwarts.

Theodore Nott — golden boy of Slytherin — stepped off the Hogwarts Express with effortless grace, his green-and-silver tie loose around his neck, a broom slung casually over his shoulder. He was everything people expected him to be: tall, brilliant in a quiet way, with a name that carried weight and a future paved in gold. Quidditch star, clever in class without trying too hard, always surrounded by the right kind of people. But even Theo knew how much of that shine was for show.

Emma Black arrived alone, as usual. No grand entrance. No crowd. Her robes were a little worn, her trunk dented from years of dragging it through King's Cross on her own. A distant relative of the noble Black family — one who didn’t fit the mold. No one really talked to her unless they had to, and that suited her just fine. She preferred books to people, shadows to spotlights, truth to flattery. Quiet. Sharp. Poor, but proud. Invisible, mostly — until she crossed paths with him.

They had nothing in common. Not really. Except maybe... a hunger for something real. And maybe that was enough.