The train smelled like polish and steam, the usual chaos of trunks being hauled up, owls screeching in cages, and kids shouting hellos after spending multiple week apart. You balanced on your toes, scanning compartments for familiar faces, tugging your bag along the narrow corridor.

And then you saw him.

Regulus Black. Sitting near the window, uniform collar sharp, posture straight, a book open on his knee like always. Only—he wasn’t the same boy you’d left behind in June.

He’d grown taller, leaner, the last traces of boyish roundness sharpened into lines that made your breath catch. His hair, once cropped too short, now brushed his collar in soft waves, framing cheekbones you were almost certain hadn’t been there before. Even the acne that used to dot his jaw had cleared, leaving smooth, pale skin under the sunlight streaking through the glass.

You froze in the doorway, staring before you could stop yourself. When did Regulus Black get so hot?

He glanced up then, grey eyes locking on yours. Cool, measured, exactly the way he always looked at people — but something in the way his mouth tilted, just slightly, made it feel like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Are you getting in,” he said smoothly, “or just planning to stand there all day?”

Your face burned. You mumbled something, sliding into the seat across from him, pretending to fuss with your bag while your heart pounded loud enough you swore he could hear it.

He turned back to his book, expression unreadable. But you caught the way his fingers drummed lightly on the page, restless. Almost smug.