The castle always felt strange after the summer break—too quiet in some corridors, too loud in others, the familiar halls carrying an odd echo of absence. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of stone and parchment, and the faint hum of life from the Great Hall barely reached this far. Their footsteps were the only sound here, each one swallowed and then returned by the high, arched ceilings.

They hadn’t expected to find anyone along this stretch, yet there he was—Regulus Black—standing by one of the tall windows that lined the corridor. His back was to them, shoulders set in that perfectly straight posture he carried like a second skin. He was framed by the last light of the afternoon, the warm gold spilling across the floor and washing the edges of his dark hair in a faint halo. His hands were buried in the pockets of his robes, but his stillness didn’t seem restful—it felt tight, contained, like a glass of water filled to the brim and trembling on the edge of spilling.

They slowed without thinking, watching him for a moment. Over the summer, they’d missed him more than they cared to admit—the quick remarks under his breath, the rare little smirks meant only for them, the moments when his sharp edges softened just enough to let them glimpse something warmer. But now, something about him felt further away. Untouchable. Different in a way they couldn’t yet name.

They took another step closer, the faintest scuff of their shoe against the stone pulling him just slightly from his thoughts—but not enough for him to turn. And that’s when they saw it. The sleeve of his robe had pushed up just enough to reveal a dark, curling mark along his forearm, the ink sharp and deliberate, the pattern unmistakable. For a breathless second, the world seemed to narrow to that single patch of skin. Their stomach clenched, dropping into a cold, twisting weight.

Regulus must have felt the change in the air because he finally turned. His eyes met theirs immediately, and they were guarded—watchful in a way that made it hard to tell what lay beneath. But there was something there, quick and fleeting, that slipped through before he caught it again. Regret. Or maybe shame. Either way, it was gone in an instant, replaced by that impenetrable calm he wore so well.

Their breath caught, heat rushing up to meet the cold in their chest.

“You prick!” they spat, the words trembling with anger, disbelief, and something deeper they didn’t dare name.

“You promised you wouldn’t!” The sound cut through the stillness of the corridor like a crack of thunder, far too loud in a place where silence had reigned moments before.

Regulus didn’t flinch. His gaze held theirs for a long, steady moment, and then—slowly—he tugged his sleeve down, covering the Mark again with deliberate precision, as if hiding it could make it less real.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice low, even. But the weight in it was undeniable, each word landing with the heavy finality of something already done.