ᴏᴍɴɪꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ✵ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ✵

𝐕

☼ ꜰʀᴇʏᴀ ☼

»»-------≪ °❈° ≫-------««

"I'm supposed to go to the prefect carriage," Emmeline tells Freya, biting her bottom lip guiltily. The Hogwarts Express starts moving abruptly, and the immediate clashing of the steel wheels against the railway tracks echoes through the bus loudly. She pulls Freya aside, allowing students of all ages to pass, and leans closer to her ear. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, you go ahead," Freya assures.

"Are you sure?"

The pair have become quite close since they met a few weeks ago. With the traumatic day of their first encounter, a sort of bond had blossomed, and they were pretty much inseparable after Dedalus's funeral. Emmeline quickly became protective of Freya.

Freya chuckles softly with a nod. "Yes, Van. I'll see you later?"

"I don't have to stay there the whole journey," Emmeline says quickly. The train is gathering more speed, so the houses outside the windows flash past and they sway where they stand. "So I'll try to find you later."

"Okay." Freya nods again with a grin. But as Emmeline drags her trunk and caged owl off towards the engine end of the train, the blonde feels an odd sense of loss. It's awkward, being as old as she is, and just as lost as a first year. Students her age gather with friends they made six years ago. She wishes that Ezra had taken the train instead of the floo to Albus's office.

Her hand grips the handle of her trunk and she struggles down the corridor, peeking through the glass-panelled doors into the compartments she passes, all of which are already occupied. Freya wishes she had the confidence to just strut into one. She can't help but notice that people stare back at her with great interest, most of them men, nudging their neighbours to point her out.

And then, her heart stops. Him. There he is. Just ten feet away from her. Eyes the colour of a gathering storm. Brunette curly locks that fall lazily upon his forehead. Taller than the tallest man on this train. The blonde next to him says something to make him laugh, and even his smile is as sharp as a knife. He's fucking gorgeous. Suddenly, it's become difficult for Freya to breathe.

In the blink of an eye, she dashes in the opposite direction. Freya shuts herself into the first compartment that comes into view and hastily closes the door. She leans her back against it, tipping her chin slightly upwards as her eyes close and her body slides to the floor. There she remains, trying to bring her heartbeat back under control, and pushing the mystery boy out of her mind.

"Er — Are you alright?"

A yelp escapes her lips, and she feels heat overpower her cheeks as she realises this compartment is, indeed, occupied. Mortified, she drags her eyes across the room to see the owner of the husky voice. A boy with caramel complexion that glows in the fluorescent lights. A book, that was just held in between his index finger and thumb, is now placed into his lap so all of his attention is on her. A faint tremor of amusement is on his plump lips. She stands, smooths out the front of her periwinkle dress, and gives him a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry. I thought the compartment was empty," Freya apologises. With a soft chuckle, she covers her face with her hands. "I didn't mean to have a meltdown in front of you."

"You can have a meltdown in front of me anytime, darling," he says, grinning. He leans forward, resting his elbows upon his knees. "Have a seat. I'm Kingsley."

She lets out a breath and sits across from him. "I'm Freya."

"How come I've never seen you around before?"