Chapter Text
Wednesday 1st September 1971
The station always smelled like smoke.
Not ordinary smoke - not like the smoke from the fireplaces in Grimmauld Place or like the smoke curling up from London’s chimneys - but sweet, magic in a way that almost felt ethereal. The fog was so thick that it almost covered the whole of King’s Cross in a cloud.
Regulus liked it. It felt magical. It softened sharp edges. It even muffled his mother’s voice as she reprimanded the eldest Black brother.
”Stand up straight, Sirius.”
Walburga Black snapped as she brushed invisible dust from Sirius’ robes with small movements, “Try not to embarrass yourself before you’re even on the train.”
”I wasn’t planning on it,” Sirius muttered.
”You never plan on it.”
Orion Black folded his newspaper under his arm, his tone not quite with care but not with criticism. He merely observed, as if fatherhood were happening to someone else rather than him
Regulus stood quietly with his hands clasped behind his back. He preferred watching to speaking most times. Sirius, on the other hand, looked like he was about to burst from sheer excitement. He was taller than Regulus now. Not by much, but just enough that both brothers noticed.
Sirius had never seemed afraid of anything.
Not of their mother’s anger. Not of their father’s silent disapproval. Not of the expectations that sat heavily on their family name.
Regulus envied that. Not enough to say it aloud, of course.
He doubted Sirius even realised there was anything to envy.
Around them, the platform buzzed with life. Owls shrieked from their cages, trunks rattled over uneven stone and anxious parents fussed over robes that would undoubtedly get creased again before the train even left London. Somewhere down the platform, someone laughed loud enough to turn a dozen heads. Walburga’s lips pinched tighter.
“Pure chaos,” she murmured.
“It is a train station,” Orion replied simply.
She made a quiet sound of disapproval all the same. Regulus let his gaze wander instead.
Children no older than Sirius darted between adults with wide, hopeful smiles, pointing excitedly towards the scarlet locomotive waiting beneath billowing clouds of white steam. First years clung to their parents’ sleeves while older students reunited with friends they hadn’t seen all summer, embracing with the easy familiarity that came from sharing a dorm for ten months of the year.
Regulus wondered what that might feel like.
He had never had many friends. Not because he didn’t want them. Mostly because he never knew what to say. His mother insisted that a Black should be selective with company, and whenever Regulus had managed to gather enough courage to approach someone at one of the endless pure-blood functions, he always found himself saying too little or thinking too much.
Books were easier. Books never expected conversation.
A sudden shout broke through the noise of the station.
”Sirius!”
The voice was bright enough to cut through the steam. Sirius turned immediately.
His whole face lit up.
”ELLIOTT?!”
Before Regulus had even registered the name, a boy came weaving effortlessly through the crowded platform, narrowly avoiding a witch levitating three trunks and apologising with a grin that suggested he wasn’t terribly sorry at all.
“Sorry!—Excuse me!—Didn’t mean to—“
He finally reached them slightly out of breath.
Elliott Rosier looked nothing like the sort of boy Regulus had imagined.
He stood just a little shorter than Sirius, though the distance was hardly noticeable unless they were side by side. There was nothing particularly imposing about him. Instead, he carried himself with an easy sort of confidence, the kind that didn’t demand attention but seemed to gather it all the same.
His hair was a warm golden blonde that caught every sliver of September sunlight filtering through the station’s enchanted steam. It wasn’t perfectly neat - soft waves curled slightly at the ends where they’d escaped whatever half-hearted attempt had been made to tame them that morning, leaving a few stubborn strands falling across his forehead. It gave him the appearance of someone who had long since accepted that his hair would never do as it was told.
But it was his eyes that held Regulus’ attention.
At first glance they were impossibly blue, the pale, crystalline shade of a winter sky moments after sunrise or fresh ice stretched across the surface of a frozen lake. They were bright without being sharp, gentle without seeming timid, and they carried a warmth that made meeting his gaze feel strangely effortless.
Then Regulus noticed the left one.
Nestled against the outer edge of Elliott’s iris was an irregular splash of soft lilac, as though someone had touched the blue with the tip of a paintbrush before it had fully dried. It wasn’t large enough to notice from across a room, but once seen it became impossible to ignore. The violet caught the light differently from the rest of his eye, giving it an almost enchanted quality, like amethyst hidden beneath clear water.
It suited him.
Not because it made him unusual - although it certainly did - but because it somehow reflected everything about him. Elliott Rosier wasn’t the sort of person who demanded to be the centre of attention. Instead, he was the sort people found themselves looking back at without quite understanding why.
His skin still held the last traces of summer, kissed golden by weeks spent outdoors, and a dusting of faint freckles stretched across the bridge of his nose and spilled onto the tops of his cheeks. They softened his features, especially whenever he smiled - which, Regulus was beginning to realise, was often.
And what a smile it was.
It arrived without hesitation, bright and effortless, crinkling the corners of those remarkable eyes as though happiness came as naturally to Elliott as breathing. It wasn't polished or practiced. It was genuine, open enough to make complete strangers feel as though they were already friends.
”You made it,” Sirius laughed.
”Course I did.” Elliott nudged his shoulder, “My mum thought we’d be late because dad couldn’t find Pig’s cage.”
”You’ve got an owl called Pig?”
“He named himself.”
“…Owls don’t name themselves.”
”Tell Pig that.”
Sirius barked a laugh. It was loud. Unrestrained. Entirely unlike the careful, measured version of himself he became around their parents.
Regulus had almost forgotten his brother could sound like that.
"Oh!" Elliott's eyes flickered towards the rest of the Black family. "Sorry."
His smile softened into something politely nervous as he straightened.
"Good morning, Mr Black. Mrs Black."
Walburga inclined her head.
"Elliott Rosier."
"You've grown," Orion observed.
"So I've been told."
"And your parents?"
"They're just parking the car. Mum insisted I come ahead before Sirius managed to leave without me."
"As if I'd ever," Sirius scoffed.
"You absolutely would have."
"I would've waited at least..."
Sirius paused theatrically.
"...three minutes."
Elliott snorted.
"I rest my case."
Then Elliott noticed the younger boy standing quietly beside Orion. His expression brightened.
"You must be Regulus."
Regulus blinked.
"...Yes."
"It's nice to finally meet you.”
His voice was warm. Not forced. Not the careful politeness Regulus was used to hearing from adults speaking to children they barely knew. Simply…warm.
"I've heard loads about you."
Regulus frowned ever so slightly.
"You have?"
"Sirius mentions you all the time."
"I do?" Sirius looked genuinely surprised.
"You do."
"When?"
"You don't notice when you do it."
Sirius scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck.
"Huh."
Regulus wasn't sure what to do with that information.
Sirius talked about him? Why?
Before he could think of something intelligent to say, Elliott held out a hand.
"I'm Elliott."
Regulus stared at it for a fraction too long before taking it. His grip was warm despite the cool September morning.
"I'm...Regulus."
Elliott laughed - not at him, but softly, like he'd been expecting that answer.
"I was hoping."
Something strange happened inside Regulus’ chest. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was just…new.
For the briefest moment, surrounded by steam and shouting families and the whistle of the Hogwarts Express, the station seemed to fade into the background. There was only Elliott's smile.
Then Sirius threw an arm around Elliott's shoulders.
"C'mon," he said. "We've got nearly six hours on the train, and I've got loads to tell you."
Elliott looked back at Regulus for just a heartbeat.
"It was nice meeting you."
Regulus opened his mouth.
"...You too."
It came out quieter than he'd intended.
Elliott smiled once more before disappearing into the sea of students beside Sirius, the pair already talking over one another as though they hadn't spent the summer writing letters every other day.
Regulus watched them go until they were almost lost among the clouds of steam.
"They seem fond of each other," Orion remarked.
"They've been inseparable since they met at the Rosier's Christmas party," Walburga replied. "A respectable friendship."
Regulus kept his eyes on the scarlet train.
Steam drifted between them, swallowing Sirius and Elliott until only the sound of their laughter carried back across the platform.
"Regulus."
He looked up.
Walburga had already begun walking away.
"Coming, Mother."
He tore his gaze from the train and followed after his parents.
Even so, just before they disappeared through the barrier, he found himself glancing back one last time.
Elliott Rosier was still laughing.
For reasons Regulus couldn't quite explain, the journey home suddenly felt much longer than it had that morning.