Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
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September 1st, 1978
The air at Platform 9¾ smelled the same as always—soot and steam, the faint sweetness of pumpkin pasties somewhere nearby—but to Avery, it all felt slightly off. Too distant. Like it was a memory she was pretending to step back into rather than a real moment.
She clutched the handle of her suitcase tightly and boarded the Hogwarts Express, blinking against the morning sun slicing through the train windows. Her boots clicked softly against the floor as she walked down the nearly empty corridor. The usual rush of excitement that came with the start of term was nowhere to be found in her chest. Pinned neatly to her cloak was the Head Girl badge. It gleamed every time the light hit it, a small, proud weight over her heart—but even that felt strangely dulled.
Her hand slid the compartment door open. Empty.
She heaved her trunk onto the rack and sat stiffly by the window, watching students trickle onto the train. Her fingers traced patterns on the cool glass. For a second, she let herself imagine Regulus sliding the door open with a smirk and a drawl—"Saving me a seat, Avery?"—like nothing had changed.
But he didn't come.
Fifteen minutes passed before Pandora and Dorcas appeared. When the girls finally joined her, the silence was heavy.
"No letter," Dorcas mutters, collapsing onto the seat and throwing her legs over Pandora's lap. "Not from any of them."
Pandora gave a noncommittal hum, uncharacteristically quiet, as she adjusted her bracelets. "Maybe they've been busy. Or maybe they're just... not who we thought anymore."
The compartment felt suddenly claustrophobic. Avery didn't respond. Instead, she murmurs, "I'm going to walk."
She slipped into the corridor before they could stop her, boots clicking against the floor, her fingers brushing along the cool glass as she moved.
Then, she saw him.
Regulus. At near the end of the corridor, back straight as a ruler, tie already impeccably knotted. And he looked... different. His hair had grown—longer, darker, curling slightly at the edges and brushing the collar of his robes. It framed his face more sharply now, drawing attention to the cold elegance of his features. His cheekbones looked more pronounced, jawline sharper, eyes heavier. Tired. There was a certain hollowness beneath them, like he hadn't properly slept in weeks. But even in his weariness, he looked more handsome than ever, refined or crueler somehow.
Avery's chest twisted. She walked over slowly, unsure of what she was feeling. Hope? Dread?
"Regulus."
He turned, his movements controlled, deliberate.
"Avery."
His voice was neutral. Too neutral. She waited. Waited for something more. A smile. A scoff. A flicker of something in his dark grey eyes. But there was nothing.
