Petty words, disgustingly accurate accusations, quickly pointed fingers; none of these were rare sights between you and your old friend, now rival, Regulus Arcturus Black.

Tonight, you were seated in the great hall, chattering away with a friend you had met earlier in the year. The chair beside you made a scraping noise against the floor as someone pulled it out and sat down.

A shouting match soon commenced as you realized the student sitting beside you was none other than Regulus. Muttered comments turned into snide remarks, which eventually turned into a full-on competition on who could embarass the other more.

“You ran away from your home at thirteen.”

He announced, seeming visibly smug. You weren’t amused.

“You have a tattoo on your left thigh.” You retorted, before realizing the implications of what you had said. Regulus glanced down at his pants. He had never shown much skin in public, especially never on his legs. How you knew where his tattoo is was something he would rather not discuss now, and not ever.

“How do you know about that?” He snapped, even though he already knew the answer.

Everyone else sitting around you two had gone quiet, listening intently.