ONLY YOU ➸ Regulus Black

chapter one.

1.

"Miss Lupin!"

Lyra's body jerked upwards in her seat so abruptly that she managed to knock Cleo Bertham square in the nose. His hands flew to seize his face, groaning with pain.

"Yes, professor?" Lyra inquired eagerly, wide-eyed with keenness. She was completely oblivious to the bleeding boy besides her who had his head thrown back, attempting to glare at her through a side eye as Ruby Turnette fussed about with pressing tissues to his nose.

"Please could you find Mr Black and Miss Parkinson and escort them here — they are more than fifteen minutes late!"

Lyra's somnolent brain stuttered for a moment, and she blinked blankly at the professors request.

"For Merlin's sake, child, are you listening to me?!"

"Yes professor, of course, I'll go get them right away!"

Scrambling to her feet, Lyra hastily left the cab.

As she slid the door closed behind her she caught the fleeting image of the Ravenclaw Prefect's sharing amused eye rolls at her daftness.

Serized by immaturity, she twisted her face into a mocking leering expression behind the door — then, realising her childishness, she cleared her throat, rolled back her shoulders and set about her search.

The exclusive quarter of the train that belongs solely to the Slytherin's was uncharted territory.

Lyra knew this; every single other House knew this; even her brother and his mates were respectful of this fact. But when the unruly excited chatter around her faded into low discreet murmurs it became painfully clear that this was not a safe space for a Hufflepuff such as herself.

Lyra was hyperaware of every leer and sneer being thrown her way; with one hand carefully fingering her wand beneath her cloaks, it was nothing short of a miracle that she found Black unscathed.

He was sat in a open cab tucked at the very far end of the carriage. For a moment Lyra thought about the irony of this; the Marauder's had trademarked their own spot on the other far end of the train. Of course the two Black siblings who wanted nothing to do with the other would pick the seats furthest away.

As she progressed closer, a handsome auburn who was talking with wild hand gestures caught her eye and immediately ceases to silence. She could practically see the burning passion in his eyes dimmer at the sight of her.

Two out of the three Slytherin's look up to fix her with equally stoic expressions. Lyra smiled as widely as humanly possible, naively hoping that perhaps her warm presence and left dimple will ease their tensity.

"Hello!" she said brightly.

When it grew awkwardly clear she would not be receiving a customary greeting back, she lightly cleared her throat and continued talking.

"Um, Black, McGonagall is expecting you. You know, for the, er, prefect meeting."

Black continued staring intently at his lap. Even with his head bent low enough for his mop of dark curls to conceal his face, she could make out the soft lines of a chiselled jawline.

"Ok," he said in a voice so soft that Lyra pondered for a split second if she was hearing things.

She hesitated, hovering, wondering if he was going to say anything else or even move as much as an inch of a muscle. When the Slytherin remained stock-still Lyra further attempted to gauge some sense of urgency from him.

"You're fifteen minutes late. Just so you know. You and, er, Parkinson."

This time a tiny sigh emitted from his lips and he finally raised his head.