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For years, Aria Parkinson had been in love with Regulus Black.
Or at least, that was what everyone had called it.
It had started in her first year, when she was still small enough to look ridiculous under the weight of her school bag, her tie always crooked, her hair too bright at the ends from whatever dye she had managed to smuggle into Hogwarts, her eyes sharp and pale green and fixed on Regulus Black like he had personally hung the moon and then forgotten to look impressed about it.
Regulus, who had been older, colder, prettier, and so irritatingly composed that it seemed like a personal insult to anyone with blood in their veins.
Regulus, who walked through corridors like the castle was something he had inherited and was mildly disappointed by.
Regulus, who never hurried unless he was on a broom, never raised his voice unless someone had made the fatal mistake of touching his equipment, and never looked particularly affected by anything except Quidditch strategy, well-sharpened quills, and people violating rules he had mentally sorted into categories no one else understood.
Aria had seen him on her third day of school and had turned to Briar Rosewood with a dreamy sigh.
“I’m going to marry him.”
Briar had looked up from the plant catalogue she had somehow already found in the library. “You’re eleven.”
“So?”
“He’s ignoring you.”
“That’s alright,” Aria had said cheerfully. “He can do that during the marriage too.”
Briar had blinked at her.
Aria had smiled.
And then, for years, she had made it everyone’s problem.
She followed him around.
Not subtly.
Subtlety, as far as Aria was concerned, was for people who had no faith in dramatic impact. She trailed after Regulus in the corridors, skipped behind him down staircases, leaned against walls outside his classrooms, and appeared at his elbow with such devoted frequency that Barty Crouch Jr. once accused her of Apparating illegally within Hogwarts.
“She doesn’t Apparate,” Regulus had said flatly, not looking up from his notes.
“She appears,” Barty snapped. “That’s worse.”
Aria, hanging upside down from a stair banister because she had decided walking upright was emotionally beneath her that afternoon, grinned at him. “You jealous, Junior?”
“I am not jealous of you stalking my friend.”
“I’m not stalking him. I’m enriching his environment.”
Evan Rosier had laughed so hard he nearly choked on a sweet.
Pandora Rosier, sitting beside him on the steps and carefully balancing three charmed paper birds on her knees, had said, “Technically, enrichment does require the subject to respond to stimuli.”
Everyone had looked at Regulus.
Regulus had turned a page.
Aria had sighed dreamily. “See? He’s responding internally.”
Dorcas Meadowes had snorted. “That is not a thing.”
“It is when he does it.”
Regulus had continued reading as if Aria were weather.
And Aria had glowed beneath that nothingness like it was affection.
She stole his jackets.
Not once. Not twice. Constantly.
If Regulus set down a jumper in the library, it ended up on Aria. If he shrugged off his school jacket during a study period, Aria appeared in it by dinner. If he left his Quidditch kit unattended for longer than eight seconds, she had her hands on it like some sort of starving little magpie.
The first time Sirius Black saw her wearing Regulus’s Quidditch hoodie, he stopped dead in the middle of the Great Hall.
James Potter walked straight into his back.
“What the hell, Padfoot?”
Sirius pointed. “That’s Reg’s.”
Aria, sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Briar, lifted both hands and flapped the sleeves at him.
Sirius stared, horrified. “Why is she wearing Reg’s hoodie?”
“Because I look cute,” Aria called.
“You look like a thief.”
“I’m a romantic.”
“You’re a criminal.”
“Romantic criminal.”
Regulus, several seats down at the Slytherin table, calmly poured pumpkin juice into his goblet.
Sirius swung towards him. “You’re just letting her wear your clothes?”
Regulus took one sip. “Clearly.”
James leaned around Sirius with a grin. “Honestly, I respect it. She’s got commitment.”
Peter Pettigrew nodded solemnly. “She does cheer very loudly at matches.”
Mary Macdonald, who had been passing with Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon, laughed. “Loudly? She screams like someone’s hexing her.”
“I’m supporting my future husband!” Aria shouted.
Regulus did not look over.
Lily, amused despite herself, glanced at him. “Does he know that?”
Aria put a hand over her heart. “He will when the paperwork goes through.”
Marlene grinned. “What paperwork?”
“The spiritual paperwork.”
Alice Fortescue, walking beside Frank Longbottom, burst out laughing. Frank looked vaguely worried, but then Frank often looked vaguely worried when Aria was involved.
Fabian Prewett leaned across the Gryffindor table. “Black, mate, your admirer’s unionising.”
Gideon Prewett tilted his head. “Can admirers unionise?”
“They should,” Dorcas said from the Slytherin end, dry as dust. “The hours are appalling.”
Regulus turned another page of his newspaper.
Aria sighed again.
“There,” she said to Briar. “See how peaceful he is? That’s love.”
“That’s avoidance,” Briar murmured.
“Same family.”
Briar patted her hand. “No, love.”
But Aria never minded.
She cheered at every match.
She painted Regulus’s name across banners in glittering green and silver and sometimes yellow because she said Hufflepuff deserved partial ownership of him through emotional labour. She showed up to Slytherin practices with snacks no one had asked for. She sat in the stands with Briar, legs swinging, hair whipping in the wind, wearing some stolen piece of Regulus’s kit and shouting herself hoarse.
“REGULUS BLACK, YOU PRETTY LITTLE STAR, HIT THEM WITH A BLUDGER!”
Briar covered her mouth. “He’s Seeker, Aria.”
“I KNOW WHAT I SAID!”
On the pitch, Regulus did not turn.
In the air, he was all sharp lines and impossible control, his dark curls whipped back from his face, the blonde poliosis streak in his fringe catching the light whenever he twisted around a dive. He flew like a knife knew ballet. He flew like rules had been invented just so he could master and exploit them.
Aria watched him like a holy thing.
Barty, standing with Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas near the lower stands, scowled up at her. “Can she not?”
Evan grinned. “She bought us biscuits.”
“She keeps calling him her husband.”
“You call him your best friend like it’s a government position.”
“It is.”
Pandora, who was wearing one of Evan’s scarves wrapped around her head for reasons she had not explained, said, “Perhaps Regulus has simply accepted that resisting Aria would require more energy than surrender.”
Dorcas nodded. “That’s the first sensible thing anyone’s said.”
Regulus caught the Snitch that match with a brutal twist of his wrist and a dive so clean even James Potter stood up clapping before he remembered he was supposed to be irritated.
Aria nearly climbed over Briar in her enthusiasm.
“THAT’S MY FUTURE HUSBAND!”
Regulus landed.
He looked briefly towards the stands.
His eyes passed over Aria.
His face remained blank.
Aria gasped like he had blown her a kiss.
“He saw me.”
Briar smiled softly into her scarf. “He looked at the entire stand.”
“He saw me with his soul.”
“He probably saw you with his peripheral vision.”
“His soul has peripheral vision.”
This went on for years.
Years of Aria sliding into seats beside him and chattering while he read.
Years of Aria stealing his gloves and returning only one.
Years of Aria appearing with badly wrapped gifts and announcing, “For you,” while Regulus took them, looked at them, said nothing, and put them away.
Years of Aria clinging to his arm in corridors while he continued walking, dragging her with him like a particularly determined decoration.
Years of Sirius looking appalled, James laughing, Remus Lupin watching quietly over the top of a book, Peter whispering commentary, Lily pretending not to be entertained, Mary and Marlene openly enjoying the chaos, Alice asking if Regulus needed rescuing, Frank asking if Aria needed supervising, and Fabian and Gideon making increasingly elaborate predictions about the eventual wedding no one had agreed was happening.
Years of Barty complaining.
Years of Evan finding it hilarious.
Years of Pandora conducting small observational studies on Aria’s persistence.
Years of Dorcas saying, “One day, this is either going to work or become everyone’s problem.”
And through it all, Regulus let it happen.
He ignored her.
Blankly. Elegantly. Completely.
He never encouraged her. He never smiled at her banners. He never flirted back. He never told her to stop. He never told her to go away. He simply existed in her orbit with the cool resignation of someone enduring rain.
And Aria, somehow, never wilted.
She did not cry about it. She did not complain. She did not resent him. She did not take his silence as cruelty or his indifference as rejection. She took it as part of him, like his grey eyes or the white streak in his curls or the way he corrected people’s chess moves even when he was not involved in the game.
Regulus Black ignored most things.
Aria Parkinson loved most impossible things.
It seemed, for a long while, as if the arrangement suited them both.
Until it didn’t.
It happened in the library.
The afternoon had gone soft and dim, rain crawling down the tall windows in silver threads. The library smelled of parchment, leather, dust, and the faint cold sweetness of wet stone. Lamps floated between the stacks, their light golden and gentle, making the narrow aisles feel like quiet little corridors of another world.
Regulus stood between two shelves in the back corner of the Charms section, one book tucked under his arm and another open in his hands. He was still in uniform, sleeves neat, tie straight, curls falling forward just enough that the blonde streak in his fringe caught against his eyebrow.
Aria had followed him there.
Naturally.
She had been humming under her breath for the last ten minutes, leaning against the opposite shelf with his spare Quidditch jacket draped over her shoulders. It was too big for her. The sleeves swallowed her hands. She had stolen it that morning from a bench and had not even attempted to hide the evidence.
Regulus had said nothing.
For ten minutes, she had watched him read.
For ten minutes, he had ignored her.
Then Aria rocked forward onto her toes and said, “Regulus.”
He did not look up. “No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You were going to ask me to Hogsmeade.”
Aria gasped, delighted. “See? Soulmates.”
Regulus turned a page. “No.”
“You said no before I asked.”
“I was saving time.”
“You’re so efficient. It’s one of your many attractive qualities.”
“Mm.”
Aria grinned and leaned closer, the stolen jacket slipping slightly down one shoulder. “Go on a date with me.”
Regulus read three more lines.
Aria waited, smile bright, eyes fixed on him.
He closed the book.
The sound was soft, but in the quiet of the stacks, it seemed to cut through the air like a decision.
Aria stilled.
Regulus slipped the closed book under his arm with the other and finally looked at her.
For once, he did not look bored.
He looked measured.
Calm.
Almost curious.
“Fine,” he said.
Aria blinked.
Regulus waited.
The rain ticked against the windows. Somewhere far across the library, Madam Pince hissed at someone for turning a page too violently.
Aria stared at him.
Regulus’s brows drew together slightly.
“I said fine,” he repeated.
Aria’s smile remained on her face, but something behind it emptied, as if someone had blown out every candle in a room at once.
She blinked again.
“Huh,” she said.
Regulus looked at her.
She looked at him.
“Huh,” she said again, softer.
His expression sharpened by one nearly invisible degree. “What?”
Aria tilted her head.
Then tilted it the other way.
Then she looked down at the jacket around her shoulders, at the too-long sleeves hanging over her hands, at the front of Regulus’s uniform, at the books tucked under his arm, at his face.
For the first time in years, Aria Parkinson looked at Regulus Black and did not seem dazzled.
She seemed blank.
Regulus did not like it.
“What?” he said again.
Aria opened her mouth, then closed it.
Then she gave a strange little laugh.
It was not her usual laugh. It was not wild or bright or feral. It did not bounce off the shelves or dare the world to chase it.
It was awkward.
Small.
Confused.
“Sorry,” she said.
Regulus stared at her.
Aria lifted one hand, sleeve falling over her fingers. “I just— sorry. Huh.”
“You asked me out.”
“I did.”
“I agreed.”
“You did.”
“You’re saying ‘huh.’”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Aria bit her lip, but not in the theatrical way she usually did when she was trying to look charming. She looked genuinely uncertain, like she had reached into a pocket for something familiar and found nothing there.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Regulus’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know?”
“No. I just—” She exhaled and looked briefly over his shoulder at the shelves, as though the answer might be tucked between Intermediate Charm Theory and A Practical Guide to Ward Reinforcement. “I thought I’d be more excited.”
Regulus did not move.
“I thought I’d be like…” Aria lifted both hands, fingers spreading inside his sleeves. “Screaming? Maybe climbing something? Definitely saying something weird enough to make you regret it instantly.”
“You have managed that without the screaming.”
“Right, but that’s the thing.” She looked back at him. “I don’t think I’m into you anymore.”
Silence.
It dropped hard and total between them.
Regulus stared at her.
Aria stared back, blinking slowly, as if she had surprised herself just as much as him.
“You’re not,” Regulus said.
It did not sound like a question.
“No,” Aria said carefully. “I don’t think so.”
“You have been following me around for years.”
“I know.”
“You stole my jacket this morning.”
“Yeah.” She glanced down at it. “This is still a good jacket.”
“You asked me on a date.”
“I did do that.”
“Three minutes ago.”
“Probably less.”
“And now you’re not interested.”
Aria grimaced. “Yeah. That sounds bad when you say it in order.”
Regulus’s fingers tightened slightly around the spine of one book.
Aria saw it. For once, she did not grin.
“It’s not because of anything you did,” she said quickly. “Or because you ignored me for ages. I didn’t mind that. That was sort of part of the whole thing.”
Regulus’s face went colder. “The whole thing.”
“Not in a mean way.” She bounced once on her heels, nervous energy trying and failing to come back into her properly. “I think maybe I just wanted what I thought I couldn’t have.”
Regulus said nothing.
“And now that I’ve got it,” Aria continued, slower, “I don’t actually want it.”
Regulus looked at her as if she had just started speaking a language he did not know and found deeply offensive.
Aria gave him an awkward grin.
“Never mind?” she tried.
His stare did not change.
She lifted both hands and gave him two thumbs up.
Regulus’s mouth parted slightly.
Aria spun on her heel.
“Okay,” she said brightly, or at least in an impression of brightness. “Bye.”
And then she left.
She skipped away between the stacks, his jacket still on her shoulders, humming under her breath like she had not just taken the entire shape of the last several years, folded it neatly, and tossed it out a window.
Regulus stood alone in the aisle.
Speechless.
Shocked.
Confused.
For several seconds, he did not move at all.
Then he looked down the aisle where she had disappeared.
Nothing.
No Aria popping back around the corner to shout that she was joking.
No triumphant laughter.
No sudden leap onto his back.
No dramatic declaration that he had failed some secret test.
Only the library, the rain, the shelves, the terrible silence, and Regulus Black standing with two books under his arm and the strange, sour feeling that something had gone wrong in a game he had not realised he had been playing.
He looked down at his own hands.
Then back towards the aisle.
“What the fuck,” he said softly.
Madam Pince appeared around the far shelf like a vengeful spectre. “Language.”
Regulus looked at her.
For once, he did not apologise.
By dinner, everyone knew something had happened.
Not because Aria told them.
Aria had simply skipped into the Great Hall still wearing Regulus’s jacket, sat down beside Briar, stolen a carrot from her plate, and said, “I think I’m over Regulus.”
Briar choked. “You’re what?”
Aria chewed the carrot. “Over Regulus.”
Briar stared at her. “Since when?”
“I know. I’m in my growth era.”
Briar lowered her fork very slowly. “What happened?”
“He agreed to go on a date with me.”
Briar stared.
Aria nodded.
Briar continued staring.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Aria said.
“Like what?”
“Like my brain has just fallen out of my ear.”
“Has it?”
“No. I checked.”
Briar pushed her glasses up her nose. “Aria.”
“What?”
“You have been obsessed with him for years.”
“Apparently not anymore.”
“Because he said yes?”
“Apparently.”
Briar opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Then, with the calm of someone deciding not to start a fight with the weather, she said, “Alright.”
Aria brightened. “That’s it?”
“What else am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. Something wise and plant-related.”
Briar thought for a moment. “Sometimes a plant climbs because it wants the wall, and sometimes it climbs because it wants to climb.”
Aria pointed at her. “There she is.”
Across the hall, Regulus had arrived at the Slytherin table with a face so blank it looked carved.
Barty noticed first.
Barty always noticed Regulus first.
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Regulus said.
Evan looked up from his plate. “That means something.”
Pandora turned her gaze slowly from Regulus to Aria, then back again. “The air has shifted.”
Dorcas did not bother looking mystical about it. “Parkinson’s wearing your jacket and isn’t staring at you.”
Regulus sat down. “I’m aware.”
Barty’s head snapped towards the Hufflepuff table. “She’s not staring at you.”
“I said I’m aware.”
“She always stares at you.”
“Yes.”
“She’s eating carrots.”
Regulus’s jaw flexed. “Astute.”
Evan grinned, sensing blood in the water. “Did you finally tell her to piss off?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you out again?”
Regulus said nothing.
Pandora leaned in, fascinated. “Oh.”
Dorcas’s brows rose. “No.”
Barty looked between them. “What? What does that mean?”
Evan’s grin widened. “Regulus said yes.”
Barty made a strangled sound.
Regulus picked up his fork.
Barty grabbed his wrist. “You said yes?”
“Remove your hand.”
“You agreed to a date with her?”
“Barty.”
“After years?”
Regulus looked at him.
Barty released his wrist, but only because Dorcas kicked him under the table.
Evan was openly laughing now. “So why isn’t she crawling across the tables?”
Regulus’s expression became lethal.
Pandora clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Did the achievement of the desired object dissolve the desire itself?”
Regulus slowly turned to her.
Dorcas muttered, “She’s over him.”
Barty went still.
Evan’s mouth fell open.
Pandora’s eyes widened with scholarly delight.
Regulus stared at his plate.
“I do not care,” he said.
No one spoke.
Then Evan wheezed.
Barty slapped a hand over Evan’s mouth without looking away from Regulus. “You don’t care.”
“No.”
“Obviously,” Dorcas said.
“Because your face always looks like that when you don’t care,” Evan managed against Barty’s palm.
Regulus stood.
Barty immediately let go of Evan. “Where are you going?”
“To return a book.”
“You don’t have a book.”
Regulus looked down.
His hands were empty.
The table went silent again.
Pandora whispered, “Remarkable.”
Regulus left anyway.
At the Gryffindor table, Sirius Black watched his brother walk out of the Great Hall with the tense, sharp movements of a cat pretending it had not fallen off something.
“What’s wrong with Reg?” he asked.
James followed his gaze. “He looks normal.”
“No, he looks normal on purpose.”
Remus glanced over, thoughtful. “That is slightly different.”
Peter leaned in. “Aria isn’t staring at him.”
Lily’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”
Mary turned towards the Hufflepuff table. “You’re right.”
Marlene grinned slowly. “She’s talking to Briar. She’s not even glancing over.”
Alice looked concerned. “Is she ill?”
Frank looked more concerned. “Is he?”
Fabian Prewett leaned across Gideon to get a better look. “Wait. Is this the apocalypse?”
Gideon squinted. “No, the apocalypse would have more screaming.”
“Give it time,” Mary said.
Sirius frowned, suddenly suspicious. “What did he do?”
James clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe she finally got tired of being ignored.”
Sirius looked almost offended on Regulus’s behalf. “That doesn’t make sense. She’s never got tired of anything in her life.”
Lily, watching Aria laugh at something Briar said, murmured, “Maybe she got what she wanted and realised wanting it was the fun part.”
Sirius looked at her.
James looked at her too, impressed.
Remus hummed. “That would be unfortunate for Regulus.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Do you think he cares?”
Everyone looked towards the doors Regulus had disappeared through.
Sirius’s frown deepened.
“He better not,” Sirius muttered.
Marlene laughed. “Why?”
“Because that’s embarrassing.”
Mary grinned. “For him or for you?”
Sirius scowled.
Fabian lifted his goblet. “To embarrassment.”
Gideon tapped his goblet against Fabian’s. “May it bloom in public.”
And bloom it did.
The next morning, Aria did not wait outside Regulus’s classroom.
Regulus noticed.
He did not mean to notice. He had certainly not looked for her. He had simply emerged from Ancient Runes, adjusted the strap of his bag, and observed the absence of a small, bright, annoying figure who should have been leaning against the wall with one foot kicked up behind her.
Barty walked out beside him, still arguing with Evan about something involving a bet, a badly drawn map, and whether or not the kitchens counted as neutral territory. Pandora drifted after them with ink on her fingers. Dorcas brought up the rear with the expression of someone regretting every social attachment she had ever made.
Regulus glanced left.
No Aria.
He glanced right.
No Aria.
He started walking.
“You’re looking for her,” Dorcas said.
“I am not.”
“You looked both ways like a child crossing a road.”
Evan made a delighted noise. “Oh, that’s humiliating.”
Barty rounded on him. “Don’t.”
Evan held up both hands, grinning. “I didn’t say it was bad humiliating.”
Regulus continued walking.
Pandora’s voice floated beside him. “Aria usually waits here after this lesson on Thursdays.”
Regulus stopped.
Everyone else stopped too.
Regulus looked at her.
Pandora smiled faintly. “It was in my notes.”
“Your notes,” Regulus repeated.
“Yes. I had a running record of her behavioural patterns.”
Dorcas sighed. “Of course you did.”
Regulus resumed walking. “I don’t care where Aria is.”
“Then why did you stop?” Evan asked.
“To consider whether I wanted to continue this conversation.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
They turned a corner.
Halfway down the corridor, Aria was there.
Not waiting for Regulus.
Not looking for Regulus.
Not wearing his jacket.
She was with Briar, walking arm in arm, giggling about something while Briar tried to balance a stack of books and Aria tried to steal one with her teeth. Aria’s hair was tied back with a ribbon, the ends dyed a sharp, bright colour that flashed when she moved. She looked perfectly herself. Worse, she looked perfectly fine.
Regulus slowed.
Barty slowed with him, then looked at him, then looked at Aria, then looked back at him.
“Oh no,” Evan whispered joyfully.
Regulus’s eyes cut to him.
Evan looked away, whistling.
Aria glanced up.
For one flicker of a second, her eyes met Regulus’s.
He expected the old spark. The immediate grin. The bounce. The bright shout of his name.
Aria smiled politely.
“Hi, Regulus.”
Politely.
Then she looked back at Briar.
Regulus stopped walking.
Briar, who had absolutely seen everything, made a soft sound that might have been a cough if she were less obviously fighting laughter.
Aria kept walking.
Past him.
Past Barty.
Past Evan.
Past Pandora.
Past Dorcas.
Without stealing anything from him.
Without touching him.
Without even slowing.
Regulus turned slowly to watch her go.
Dorcas looked at his face and said, “Oh, this is going to be unbearable.”
Barty looked alarmed. “Regulus.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to challenge a hallway to a duel.”
Regulus’s mouth was a thin line.
Pandora whispered, “Fascinating reversal.”
Evan clutched his chest. “She said hi.”
Barty snapped, “Shut up.”
“She said hi like he was a prefect she didn’t want to annoy.”
“Evan.”
“Like he was just some boy.”
Regulus turned.
Evan immediately stepped behind Dorcas.
Regulus walked away.
He did not follow Aria.
Not then.
Not immediately.
He made it almost eleven minutes.
Then he turned around so abruptly Barty collided with him.
“What are you doing?” Barty demanded.
“I forgot something.”
“What?”
Regulus’s face was blank.
Dorcas muttered, “His dignity.”
Regulus went back down the corridor.
That was when the tables turned.
At first, it was subtle.
At least, Regulus believed it was subtle.
He began appearing in places Aria happened to be.
The courtyard, when she and Briar were sitting on a low stone wall, Briar reading while Aria lay backwards across her lap and hummed at the sky.
The corridor outside Herbology, where Aria was listening to Briar talk about something green and complicated with the expression of someone who understood none of it but liked the sound of Briar’s voice.
The edge of the Hufflepuff table at breakfast, where Aria was eating toast and laughing with Mary Macdonald about Sirius apparently having nearly fallen down a staircase when Aria jumped out at him the day before.
The library, though Aria did not seem to be waiting for him there anymore.
The Quidditch pitch, though she no longer came to watch every practice.
Regulus told himself these were coincidences.
Nobody believed him.
“You hate the courtyard,” Barty said one afternoon, standing beside Regulus beneath a grey sky while Aria sat across the stones with Briar. “You said the fountain was badly placed.”
“It is.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Fresh air.”
“You hate unstructured fresh air.”
Regulus looked at him. “Do you ever get tired of speaking?”
“No.”
Evan, leaning against a pillar with a grin, said, “We’re here because she’s here.”
Regulus did not look at Aria.
Across the courtyard, Aria threw her head back laughing. Briar smiled beside her, looking pleased and nervous about Aria’s feet being so close to knocking over a pot of flowers.
Regulus looked at the fountain.
It really was badly placed.
Pandora, who had brought a tiny notebook, murmured, “Subject exhibits increased proximity-seeking after withdrawal of prior attention source.”
Dorcas peered over her shoulder. “Are you documenting him now?”
“I document all rare natural phenomena.”
Regulus turned. “Put that away.”
Pandora did not.
Then Aria saw him.
She waved.
Just waved.
A friendly, casual, painless little wave.
Regulus’s stomach twisted.
He lifted his hand back after a delay too long to be normal.
Aria turned away again.
Regulus lowered his hand.
Evan bit his knuckle.
Barty looked like he wanted to hex everyone present, including the fountain.
Dorcas said, “This is worse than I thought.”
“What is?” Regulus asked coldly.
“You.”
Regulus left the courtyard.
This time, he lasted until dinner before finding her again.
Aria was not at her own table when he entered the Great Hall. She was standing near the Gryffindors, hands animated as she told Sirius something. Sirius looked horrified, which meant the conversation was going well for her.
James was laughing into his goblet. Peter looked fascinated. Remus watched from behind his book, eyes quietly amused. Lily had one eyebrow raised. Mary and Marlene were openly encouraging whatever disaster was unfolding. Fabian and Gideon were leaning in from down the table. Alice was trying not to laugh, and Frank had his head in his hands.
Regulus drifted closer without deciding to.
Barty, who had followed him out of loyalty and concern and the belief that Regulus unsupervised was now a public hazard, hissed, “Don’t.”
Regulus ignored him.
Aria was saying, “—and that’s why I still think keeping it in a little pouch is completely fair.”
Sirius’s voice cracked. “It is my tooth.”
“You weren’t using it.”
“It was in my mouth!”
“It came out.”
“You knocked it out!”
“And Madam Pomfrey grew you a new one, so really, I gave you a backup tooth.”
James wheezed. “Backup tooth.”
Mary slapped the table. “No, she’s got a point.”
Lily said, “She absolutely does not.”
Marlene leaned towards Aria. “Do you actually still have it?”
Aria grinned and patted her pocket.
Sirius recoiled. “Don’t.”
Aria’s grin widened.
Regulus came to a stop behind her.
Everyone noticed him at different speeds.
Remus first, because Remus noticed everything quietly.
Then Lily.
Then James, whose grin changed shape.
Then Sirius, who looked between Regulus and Aria with dawning horror.
Aria turned.
“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”
Again.
That same casual hi.
Regulus stared down at her.
She stared back, cheerful and entirely unmoved.
His hands twitched once at his sides.
“Parkinson,” he said.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Black.”
Sirius looked like he might be sick. “Why did that sound like flirting?”
“It didn’t,” Regulus said.
“It kind of did,” James said.
“It did not.”
Aria tilted her head. “Do you need something?”
Regulus had not planned that far.
The silence stretched.
Barty, behind him, whispered, “Leave.”
Regulus said, “My jacket.”
Aria blinked.
Everyone’s eyes dropped to her clothes.
She was not wearing Regulus’s jacket.
She was wearing her own jumper.
Regulus knew that.
He had known that before he spoke.
And yet.
Aria looked down at herself, then back up at him. “I don’t have it.”
Regulus’s expression did not change.
James covered his mouth.
Marlene leaned fully into Mary’s shoulder, shaking.
Fabian whispered to Gideon, “He’s dying.”
Gideon whispered back, “No, no, don’t interrupt. This is nature.”
Aria smiled, helpful. “Do you want me to look for it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Regulus remained where he was.
Aria waited.
The Gryffindors waited.
Barty appeared to be undergoing every stage of grief at once.
Finally, Aria patted Regulus’s arm.
Patted it.
Like he was an anxious horse.
“I’m sure it’ll turn up,” she said.
Then she turned back to Sirius. “Anyway, as I was saying—”
Regulus did not move.
Sirius stared at him, eyes huge.
“Reg,” he said slowly.
Regulus looked at him.
Sirius leaned back. “You are being weird.”
“I am not.”
“You came over here to ask for a jacket she isn’t wearing.”
“I have several jackets.”
“That makes it worse.”
James, delighted beyond reason, said, “Are you trying to get her attention?”
Regulus’s gaze snapped to him.
The table went beautifully silent.
James’s grin grew.
“Oh,” he said.
Lily closed her eyes briefly. “James.”
“Oh, this is fantastic.”
“It is not,” Sirius said, looking appalled.
Remus’s mouth twitched.
Peter looked between everyone. “Wait, is Regulus into Aria now?”
Regulus said, “No.”
At the same time, Aria said, “Apparently.”
Everyone turned to her.
She shrugged. “He’s been following me.”
Regulus went still.
Barty made a wounded sound. “You noticed?”
Aria glanced at him. “I’m not blind, Junior.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’ll stop when I’m dead.”
Evan, arriving late with Pandora and Dorcas, took one look at the scene and lit up like a festival lantern. “What did we miss?”
Dorcas looked at Regulus standing behind Aria and said, “Nothing new. He’s still embarrassing.”
Regulus’s voice dropped. “Dorcas.”
“What? It’s accurate.”
Pandora looked from Aria to Regulus with shining eyes. “Has he initiated direct pursuit?”
“Pandora,” Barty warned.
Aria turned back towards Regulus, utterly unbothered. “Did you need something else?”
Regulus looked at her.
She stood close enough that he could see the pale green of her eyes, the slight smudge of ink on one finger, the bright colour at the ends of her hair, the faint curve of amusement at her mouth.
She had looked at him like that a thousand times before, but never without wanting him.
It bothered him.
It bothered him in a sharp, maddening way that sat beneath his ribs and refused to be reasoned with.
“No,” he said.
Aria smiled. “Okay.”
She turned away.
Regulus stood there for one more second.
Then another.
Then he turned and walked out of the Great Hall.
Barty followed immediately.
Evan followed because he was entertained.
Pandora followed because she was curious.
Dorcas followed because someone had to witness it and make cutting remarks.
Aria dropped into the space Regulus had left and stole one of Sirius’s chips.
Sirius stared at her. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
“Doing what?”
“Making him like you.”
Aria frowned. “No.”
Sirius looked uncertain.
Aria shrugged. “I’m not into him anymore.”
Sirius stared harder. “You’re really not?”
“Nope.”
“But you were.”
“Yes.”
“For years.”
“Also yes.”
“And now you’re just… done?”
Aria ate another chip. “Apparently.”
James leaned forward, delighted. “And how does it feel?”
Aria considered this.
Then she grinned.
“Peaceful.”
Sirius groaned into his hands.
The next week was unbearable.
Regulus became, in slow and horrifying increments, clingy.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
It began in the corridor outside Defence.
Aria was walking with Briar, talking at speed about something involving Sirius, a secret stash, and a frog she had absolutely not put anywhere she was not supposed to put frogs. Briar listened with the serene patience of someone who had accepted that her life would involve amphibian rumours whether she liked it or not.
Regulus appeared beside them.
“Parkinson.”
Aria looked up. “Regulus.”
Then she kept walking.
Regulus stepped with her.
Briar looked at him.
He ignored Briar.
Aria glanced sideways. “Did you need something?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Three more steps.
Regulus moved closer.
Aria looked down.
His hand had closed lightly around the cuff of her sleeve.
She blinked at it.
Briar looked at the hand too.
Then at Regulus’s face.
Regulus looked straight ahead.
Aria lifted the sleeve slightly. His hand came with it.
“Are you holding my sleeve?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m walking.”
“With my sleeve?”
Regulus did not answer.
Briar pressed her lips together.
Aria shrugged. “Alright.”
She let him.
By the time they reached the next staircase, he had moved from holding her sleeve to holding her wrist.
By lunch, he was holding her hand.
By the afternoon, in the courtyard, he was standing behind her with both arms around her waist.
Aria, apparently resigned to becoming furniture, stood with her arms loose at her sides while Regulus held her against him like someone might attempt to confiscate her.
Briar sat on the wall nearby, pretending to read and failing because her shoulders kept shaking.
Barty stared from ten feet away in pure betrayal.
Evan looked like Christmas had come early.
Pandora had her notebook out again.
Dorcas leaned over her shoulder. “Write pathetic in the margin.”
Pandora did.
Regulus rested his chin lightly on top of Aria’s head.
Aria looked up as much as she could. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“I was asking because I’m not.”
His arms tightened.
Aria made a small wheezing noise.
Briar looked up. “Regulus.”
He loosened his hold by half an inch.
Aria patted his arm. “Thanks.”
Barty’s voice was strangled. “What is happening?”
Evan grinned. “Your best friend is cuddling Aria Parkinson in public.”
“He doesn’t cuddle.”
“He’s doing an impressive impression of it.”
Regulus looked at Barty. “Stop staring.”
“You’re attached to her.”
“I’m standing.”
“You are wrapped around her like Devil’s Snare.”
Dorcas said, “Less dignified than Devil’s Snare.”
Pandora, writing, murmured, “Subject displays possessive full-body contact.”
Regulus lifted his head. “Pandora.”
She looked up innocently. “Yes?”
“Stop documenting me.”
“I have switched to poetry.”
“No, you haven’t,” Dorcas said. “It says possessive full-body contact.”
Pandora covered the page. “Poetry can be direct.”
Aria wriggled slightly in Regulus’s arms. “I have Herbology soon.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t take Herbology.”
“I can walk.”
“You hate the greenhouses.”
“I tolerate them.”
“You once said the humidity was an attack.”
“It was.”
Briar finally lost the battle and laughed into her book.
Aria turned her head, cheek pressed awkwardly against Regulus’s sleeve. “Briar, help.”
Briar wiped beneath her glasses. “No, this is good for me.”
“Traitor.”
“Deeply.”
Regulus held Aria until the bell rang.
Then he walked her to Herbology.
He did not merely walk beside her.
He kept one arm around her shoulders the entire way.
Aria accepted this with the cheerful confusion of someone being followed by a very elegant, emotionally repressed shadow.
At the greenhouse door, she slipped out from under his arm and turned.
“Okay,” she said. “Bye.”
Regulus looked down at her.
She waited.
He did not move.
“Regulus.”
“What?”
“You can leave now.”
“I know.”
“You’re not leaving.”
“I am aware.”
Aria glanced past him to where Briar had entered the greenhouse and was now openly watching through the glass.
“Do you want something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Regulus’s jaw worked once.
Then he said, “Go to Hogsmeade with me.”
Aria stared.
Inside the greenhouse, Briar froze.
Regulus stood very still.
Aria’s face softened with awkwardness.
“Oh,” she said.
Regulus’s shoulders tensed.
Aria made a sympathetic little sound. “I’m not really into you anymore, remember?”
His eyes narrowed. “You could become into me again.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.”
“It could be.”
“Probably not.”
“You were into me before.”
“Right, but now I’m not.”
“For no reason.”
“Yeah.”
“That is unreasonable.”
Aria smiled apologetically. “Feelings are unreasonable.”
Regulus looked deeply offended by this.
Behind him, Barty, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas had arrived at the end of the corridor because apparently no one in Regulus’s life had any intention of letting him suffer privately.
Evan whispered, “This is the best day of my life.”
Barty whispered back, “I will kill you.”
“You can’t kill me. You need someone to tell this story at your funeral.”
“I’m not the one dying.”
“No, but Regulus is.”
Dorcas elbowed Evan in the ribs.
Regulus ignored all of them.
Aria reached up and patted his arm again. “Sorry.”
He looked at her hand on his sleeve.
Then at her.
“You used to ask me every week.”
“I know.”
“So say yes.”
“No, thank you.”
Regulus blinked.
Aria smiled. “That was polite.”
He stared at her.
The greenhouse door opened and Professor Sprout called, “Miss Parkinson? Miss Rosewood? Inside, please.”
Aria gave Regulus a small wave. “Bye.”
Then she disappeared into the greenhouse.
The door shut.
Regulus remained in front of it.
Barty approached carefully. “Regulus.”
Regulus did not respond.
Evan leaned around him and peered through the glass. “She’s already talking to Briar.”
Regulus turned his head slowly.
Evan stepped back.
Dorcas sighed. “Don’t antagonise the abandoned cat.”
“I am not an abandoned cat,” Regulus said.
Pandora nodded thoughtfully. “No. Cats hide suffering better.”
Regulus walked away.
The gifts began the next day.
A ribbon first.
Aria found it tucked into her usual seat in Charms, dark green and fine as water, folded neatly beside her quill.
She held it up.
Briar leaned over. “That’s pretty.”
Aria squinted at it. “Suspicious.”
From two rows back, Regulus watched her.
Aria turned around.
He looked at the board.
She looked at the ribbon.
Then back at him.
“Is this from you?”
“No.”
“It was on my chair.”
“Many people have access to chairs.”
Briar made a tiny sound.
Aria smiled. “Thank you, many people.”
Regulus’s face softened by almost nothing.
Aria tied the ribbon around Briar’s wrist.
Regulus’s expression went flat.
Briar looked down at the ribbon.
Then very slowly looked back at Aria.
Aria had not even done it to be cruel. She genuinely thought it looked nice.
Regulus spent the rest of Charms staring at the back of Briar’s wrist like it had personally betrayed him.
After class, he intercepted Aria by the door.
“Why did you give it to her?”
Aria blinked. “The ribbon?”
“Yes.”
“She likes green.”
“It was yours.”
“You said it wasn’t from you.”
Regulus paused.
Aria smiled.
He looked annoyed.
“It was implied.”
“It really wasn’t.”
“It was on your chair.”
“You said many people have access to chairs.”
Briar, standing beside Aria with the ribbon still on her wrist, looked painfully delighted.
Regulus glanced at her wrist.
Briar immediately hid it behind her back.
Aria tilted her head. “Did you want me to wear it?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
Regulus looked irritated with himself.
Aria looked surprised.
Then sympathetic.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s sweet.”
Regulus straightened slightly.
“But I’m still not into you,” Aria added.
His face closed again.
Briar coughed.
Regulus turned and left.
The next gift was a sugar quill.
Then a book of Muggle punk photography Aria genuinely liked enough to keep.
Then a packet of enchanted hair clips that changed colour to match her dye.
Then a little silver lighter that did not need fuel, which made Briar say, “Absolutely not in the greenhouse,” before Aria had even opened her mouth.
Regulus gave the gifts silently at first.
Then with increasing intensity.
He left them on desks. Passed them to Briar to pass to Aria. Sent Evan with one once, which Evan ruined by bowing extravagantly and saying, “From your emotionally compromised admirer.”
Regulus did not send Evan again.
At breakfast one morning, he placed a small box beside Aria’s plate at the Hufflepuff table and stood there.
Aria looked at the box.
Then up at him.
The entire Hufflepuff table went quiet in spreading ripples.
The Gryffindor table noticed immediately.
The Slytherin table noticed because Barty made a noise like a kettle under pressure.
Aria opened the box.
Inside was a tiny charm shaped like a star.
She picked it up between two fingers.
It glinted in the morning light.
Briar softened. “That’s beautiful.”
Aria looked at Regulus. “This is beautiful.”
Regulus’s chin lifted.
James whispered from the Gryffindor table, “He’s preening.”
Sirius hissed, “He is not.”
Remus said mildly, “He is a little.”
Lily watched with thoughtful concern. Mary and Marlene watched like they had front-row seats at a theatre. Peter had abandoned his breakfast entirely. Alice and Frank sat side by side, both openly invested. Fabian and Gideon had started taking turns narrating under their breath.
Aria held the charm up.
Regulus waited.
Then Aria smiled and clipped it onto Briar’s bag.
Regulus’s face went white with offence.
Barty put both hands over his mouth.
Evan made a sound so high it was almost silent.
Pandora leaned forward, eyes shining.
Dorcas muttered, “Oh, that one hurt.”
Aria, noticing nothing until it was far too late, looked back at Regulus.
“What?”
Regulus stared at the charm on Briar’s bag.
Briar looked mortified and delighted in equal measure. “Aria.”
“What?” Aria repeated.
Regulus’s voice was dangerously even. “I gave that to you.”
“You did.”
“For you.”
“I know.”
“You put it on her bag.”
“It looks cute there.”
“It would look cute on you.”
The entire nearby section of the hall stopped breathing.
Aria blinked.
Regulus looked as if he wanted to swallow the words back and also force everyone else to pretend they had never heard them.
James Potter inhaled sharply.
Sirius slammed both hands over James’s mouth before he could speak.
Mary’s eyes went huge.
Marlene bit into her fist.
Lily whispered, “Oh dear.”
Peter whispered, “He’s really bad at this.”
Remus did not look up from his tea, but his ears had gone slightly red from the effort of not laughing.
Fabian, reverent, whispered, “Historic.”
Gideon nodded. “Put it in a book.”
Barty stood abruptly from the Slytherin table. “I need air.”
Evan grabbed his sleeve. “No, you need to watch.”
“I raised him better than this.”
“You absolutely did not raise him.”
“I emotionally supervised him.”
“You shouted at anyone who looked at him.”
“That counts.”
Aria looked down at the charm, then up at Regulus.
Her voice softened. “That was a nice thing to say.”
Regulus said nothing.
“I still don’t want to go out with you.”
His expression shattered so subtly most people would have missed it.
Unfortunately, the Great Hall was now full of people trained by years of Aria-related Regulus observation.
Nobody missed it.
Aria winced. “Sorry.”
Regulus turned and walked away.
This time, Aria watched him go.
Briar touched the charm on her bag. “Maybe you should give this back.”
Aria looked at it.
Then at Regulus’s retreating back.
Her mouth twisted.
“I didn’t mean to be mean,” she said quietly.
“I know,” Briar said.
“I just don’t want him.”
“I know.”
Aria slumped slightly. “That’s inconvenient.”
Briar smiled faintly. “For him, mostly.”
At the Gryffindor table, Sirius looked ready to march across the hall and shake his brother by the shoulders.
James finally removed Sirius’s hand from his mouth. “Your brother is catastrophically down bad.”
Sirius pointed at him. “Don’t use words.”
“That was a sentence.”
“Don’t use sentences.”
Lily gave Sirius a look. “You can’t forbid grammar because your brother is having feelings.”
“I can try.”
Remus murmured, “It won’t help.”
Sirius groaned. “Why her?”
Mary grinned. “Because she stopped wanting him.”
Marlene leaned on her elbow. “That’ll do it.”
Alice frowned thoughtfully. “Do you think he liked being wanted?”
Frank nodded slowly. “And now he misses it.”
Peter looked sad for a second. “That’s kind of awful.”
Fabian clapped him on the back. “Yes, but in a very funny way.”
Gideon lifted his toast. “To love arriving late and poorly dressed.”
James raised his goblet. “To Regulus Black, finally experiencing consequences.”
Sirius looked betrayed. “Don’t toast that.”
Everyone toasted it.
Regulus did not improve.
He grew worse.
He began saving Aria seats.
Seats she had not asked for.
At lunch, he sat at the end of the Slytherin table nearest Hufflepuff and left the space beside him empty. Aria came in with Briar, saw the empty seat, waved at him, and sat with Briar.
Regulus stared at the empty seat for the rest of the meal.
Barty sat down in it halfway through out of spite.
Regulus looked at him.
Barty looked back.
“This seat was empty,” Barty said.
“It wasn’t for you.”
“Then you should have labelled it.”
“I should not have to label a seat.”
“You labelled your ink bottles.”
“They are specific.”
“So is this seat, apparently.”
Regulus said nothing.
Barty stabbed a potato. “This is humiliating for both of us.”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“I am your friend. Your humiliation is my inheritance.”
Across the hall, Aria leaned against Briar, whispering something that made Briar laugh softly.
Regulus’s gaze tracked the movement.
Barty followed it, then sighed.
“You could stop.”
Regulus looked at him. “Stop what?”
“Whatever this is.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
Barty gestured at the empty space beside him. “You reserved a ghost seat.”
Regulus looked away.
Evan slid in across from them. “Aria’s sitting with Briar again.”
Regulus’s eyes narrowed.
Evan grinned. “Just reporting the news.”
Pandora sat beside Evan. “The news appears emotionally devastating.”
Dorcas dropped into the seat opposite Regulus. “He’s jealous of Briar now.”
“I am not jealous of Briar,” Regulus said.
At that exact moment, Aria pressed a kiss to Briar’s cheek because Briar had given her half a biscuit.
Regulus’s fork bent slightly in his hand.
Dorcas looked at the fork.
Then at Regulus.
“Sure.”
The jealousy was immediate, ridiculous, and impossible to ignore.
When Mary Macdonald threw an arm around Aria’s shoulders in the corridor and walked with her laughing, Regulus appeared three paces behind them like a storm cloud in uniform.
When Marlene McKinnon ruffled Aria’s hair, Regulus looked like he had witnessed a crime.
When Fabian Prewett picked Aria up to move her out of the way of a spilled inkpot, Regulus went so still that Gideon had to step between them and say, “Fabian enjoys having bones.”
Fabian, still holding Aria by the waist, blinked. “What?”
“Put the girl down.”
Aria, dangling cheerfully, waved at Regulus. “Hi.”
Regulus stared at Fabian’s hands.
Fabian set her down very gently.
“Right,” he said. “No carrying Parkinson. Noted.”
Gideon patted Regulus’s shoulder as he passed. “You’re terrifying when pathetic.”
Regulus looked at him.
Gideon smiled. “I say that with affection.”
Regulus did not seem comforted.
Sirius noticed the jealousy and hated every moment of it.
He found Regulus after dinner one evening standing in the corridor outside the library, watching through the open doors as Aria sat at a table with Briar, Lily, and Remus. Aria had her chin on her hands and was listening to Lily explain something. Remus sat beside Lily with a book open, occasionally offering a quiet comment. Briar was writing notes with her usual neat concentration.
Regulus stood half-hidden by a pillar.
Sirius leaned beside him.
“No,” Sirius said.
Regulus did not look at him. “Go away.”
“No.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re lurking.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re lurking like a haunted portrait.”
Regulus’s jaw tightened.
Sirius followed his gaze into the library. “You’re jealous of Moony?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I am not jealous of Remus.”
“Good. Because that would be stupid.”
Regulus’s eyes flicked briefly to him.
Sirius sighed. “Reg.”
“Don’t.”
“What is this?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s very clearly something.”
Regulus watched Aria laugh at something Remus said. She did not lean against him. She did not touch him. She simply laughed.
Regulus looked like the sound had hooked beneath his ribs.
Sirius softened despite himself.
“She liked you for years,” he said quietly.
Regulus did not answer.
“And you ignored her.”
“She did not mind.”
“Maybe not.”
“She said she didn’t mind.”
“Maybe she didn’t.” Sirius looked into the library. “But now she’s done.”
Regulus’s face went even colder, which meant something underneath had been struck.
Sirius, because he was Sirius, did not know how to leave the bruise alone.
“You can’t just decide she has to keep wanting you because you finally noticed.”
Regulus looked at him then.
His eyes were sharp.
Grey and storm-bright.
“I noticed,” he said.
Sirius blinked.
Regulus looked back into the library.
“I noticed everything.”
Sirius fell silent.
Inside, Aria stole Briar’s quill. Briar plucked it calmly back without looking up. Aria grinned and leaned into her side.
Regulus swallowed.
Sirius studied him.
For the first time, he wondered whether Regulus had been ignoring Aria because he truly felt nothing, or because being wanted that brightly had been too strange, too constant, too much to name.
Maybe Regulus had noticed every stolen jacket.
Every banner.
Every shout from the stands.
Every ridiculous gift.
Every warm hand on his arm.
Maybe he had put all of it somewhere inside himself without understanding that it had roots.
And maybe now, with Aria’s wanting gone, he had finally noticed the shape of the space it left behind.
Sirius hated how sad that made him.
He hated more that it was still funny.
“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said.
Regulus’s mouth tightened. “Thank you.”
“I mean it with brotherly love.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No,” Sirius admitted. “But I mean it.”
Regulus glanced into the library once more.
Then turned away.
Sirius watched him go.
Behind him, James appeared silently out of absolutely nowhere.
Sirius jolted. “Prongs!”
James looked after Regulus. “Bad?”
Sirius rubbed his face. “Worse.”
James’s grin was gentler than usual. “He likes her.”
Sirius groaned. “I know.”
“And she doesn’t like him.”
“I know.”
“And he’s terrible at coping with that.”
“I know, James.”
James leaned against the pillar. “This is, unfortunately, incredibly entertaining.”
Sirius pointed at him. “Do not enjoy my brother’s suffering.”
James held up both hands. “I’ll enjoy it respectfully.”
Remus, who had apparently heard enough from inside the library and come to the doorway, said, “That sounds unlikely.”
James turned. “Moony, be honest. Is it funny?”
Remus glanced down the corridor where Regulus had gone.
Then towards Aria, who was now balancing a quill on her upper lip while Briar pretended not to know her.
“It is a little funny,” Remus admitted.
Sirius made a betrayed sound.
Lily joined Remus at the doorway. “It would be funnier if Regulus didn’t look like he’d been personally wronged by the concept of free will.”
Sirius looked at the ceiling. “I’m surrounded by monsters.”
Sirius turned on his heel and walked away.
Regulus’s patience broke properly on a Friday.
It had rained all morning, stopped by lunch, and left the castle smelling of cold stone and wet grass. The corridors were restless with the end-of-week energy that made everyone louder, stupider, and more likely to start hexing people for sport.
Aria was sitting on a low windowsill outside the library, swinging her legs and humming to herself while Briar stood beside her reading from a parchment. Aria had one of Briar’s curls wrapped around her finger and was nodding with exaggerated seriousness to whatever Briar was saying.
Regulus approached from the far end of the corridor.
Barty, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas were with him.
At the other end, the Gryffindors were clustered near the stairs after Transfiguration: Sirius arguing with James, Lily talking to Mary, Marlene leaning over Alice’s shoulder, Frank holding a stack of books, Remus watching Peter try to fix his bag strap, and Fabian and Gideon making unhelpful suggestions.
Everyone saw Regulus see Aria.
Several people stopped talking.
Regulus did not slow.
Aria looked up when his shadow fell across her.
“Hi,” she said.
Regulus stepped between her knees.
Briar’s reading stopped.
Aria blinked up at him. “That’s close.”
Regulus took her hand.
The corridor went silent so fast it felt enchanted.
Aria looked down at their joined hands.
Then up at his face.
“Regulus.”
“Go on a date with me.”
Her expression shifted into that familiar awkward sympathy.
Behind Regulus, Barty closed his eyes like he could not bear to watch and also could not physically leave.
Evan whispered, “Round… what is this? Seven?”
Dorcas whispered, “At least nine if you count breakfast.”
Pandora whispered, “We should count breakfast.”
Aria gently squeezed Regulus’s hand, then tried to let go.
He did not let go.
“Regulus,” she said again.
His fingers tightened.
Not hard.
Just desperate.
“I said no,” she said softly.
“You said you weren’t into me.”
“I’m not.”
“You could go on one date.”
“I could.”
His eyes sharpened with hope.
Aria winced. “But I don’t want to.”
The hope vanished.
Across the corridor, Sirius muttered, “Oh, Reg.”
James, for once, did not joke.
Remus watched quietly.
Lily’s face softened.
Mary and Marlene exchanged a look. Alice leaned unconsciously closer to Frank. Fabian and Gideon stopped whispering.
Regulus looked down at Aria, and the cold mask he wore so easily cracked around the edges.
“Why?” he asked.
Aria opened her mouth.
No answer came out.
His voice dropped. “You wanted me for years.”
“I know.”
“You followed me.”
“I know.”
“You wore my clothes.”
“I know.”
“You came to my matches.”
“I know, Regulus.”
“You asked me out constantly.”
“I know.”
“You can’t just stop.”
The words came out too raw.
Too honest.
Too close to the bone.
Aria’s eyes widened.
Regulus seemed to realise what he had said at the same moment everyone else did. His expression shuttered, but it was too late. The words had already landed between them, bare and humiliating.
Aria slipped off the windowsill.
Because Regulus still held her hand, she landed close to him.
She was shorter than him, slim and sharp and bright, all pale skin and pale green eyes and restless energy. He looked down at her like she was a question the universe had refused to answer correctly.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she said.
Regulus’s jaw trembled once, almost imperceptibly. “That doesn’t help.”
“I know.”
“I finally said yes.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to be happy.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to—” He stopped, throat working.
Aria’s voice was gentle. “I was supposed to still want you.”
Regulus did not answer.
But his silence did.
Aria looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said, “I’m sorry.”
Regulus laughed once, sharp and humourless. “Don’t.”
“I am.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“What do you want me to be?”
“Into me,” he snapped.
Aria blinked.
Barty turned around and placed his forehead against the wall.
Evan whispered, “Oh, he’s gone.”
Dorcas whispered, “Fully.”
Pandora whispered, “The tragedy has become theatre.”
Regulus did not look away from Aria.
His hand was still around hers.
Aria’s mouth parted, but nothing clever came out.
For the first time, she looked shaken.
Not because she wanted him again.
Because he wanted her.
And Regulus Black wanting anything openly was a little like watching lightning try to kneel.
“Regulus,” she said softly, “I can’t make myself feel it.”
“You did before.”
“I know.”
“Then do it again.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“It should.”
“It doesn’t.”
His face twisted.
Only a little.
Enough.
Then he moved.
He stepped closer, arms coming around her with such sudden need that Aria made a startled sound. He pulled her against him, not graceful now, not composed, not cool. His arms locked around her shoulders and waist, his head bending until his face was half-hidden against her hair.
The corridor inhaled.
Aria stood frozen for one second.
Then two.
Then she lifted her hands awkwardly and patted his back.
“Er,” she said. “Okay.”
Regulus held tighter.
“Go out with me,” he said against her hair.
Aria grimaced. “Regulus.”
“Please.”
Every face in the corridor changed.
Barty turned around so fast he nearly hit his head on the wall.
Sirius went completely still.
James’s mouth fell open.
Lily’s brows lifted.
Mary whispered, “Oh my God.”
Marlene whispered, “He said please.”
Peter looked close to fainting.
Remus’s eyes softened in a way he quickly hid by looking down.
Alice pressed both hands to her mouth.
Frank whispered, “Oh, poor lad.”
Fabian whispered, “This is no longer only funny.”
Gideon whispered back, “It is still partly funny.”
Briar, closest to them, watched Aria’s face carefully.
Aria looked helpless.
Regulus did not let go.
“Please,” he said again.
It came out quieter this time.
Worse.
“Just one date.”
Aria swallowed. “I’m not going to suddenly fancy you again because you ask nicely.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should care.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s not healthy.”
“Aria.”
She went still.
He had almost never called her Aria.
Not like that.
Not soft.
Not desperate.
Not with his arms around her like she was something he had lost before ever admitting he wanted to keep it.
Aria looked up at Briar, as much as she could with Regulus clinging to her.
Briar’s expression said, entirely unhelpfully, that Aria was on her own.
Aria looked at Regulus again.
He lifted his head.
His grey eyes were fixed on hers. The blonde streak in his fringe had fallen loose over his forehead. He looked beautiful and miserable and so pathetically determined that Aria had to bite her lip to stop herself from making a very inappropriate noise at the sheer absurdity of it.
“You are being ridiculous,” she said.
“Yes.”
“At least you know.”
“Go out with me.”
“No.”
His arms tightened.
Aria wheezed. “Regulus.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Stop saying please like that.”
“Go out with me.”
“No.”
“Aria.”
She groaned.
Regulus’s face flickered.
Not victory.
Hope.
Tiny and devastating.
Aria pointed a finger at him, though it was difficult because he was still holding her. “Do not look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a wet cat.”
“I am not—”
“You are. A very expensive wet cat.”
Evan made a strangled sound behind his hand.
Dorcas muttered, “Accurate.”
Barty whispered, “Do not encourage this.”
Regulus ignored them all.
“Please,” he said again.
Aria shut her eyes.
“No.”
He made a sound.
It was not quite a whine.
Not fully.
But close enough that the entire corridor seemed to feel it pass through them.
Aria’s eyes flew open. “Did you just whine?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Regulus lowered his forehead to her shoulder. “Please.”
Aria stared over his shoulder at the wall.
Then at Briar.
Then at the ceiling.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
Regulus stayed exactly where he was.
Aria tried to step back.
He came with her.
She tried to peel one of his arms away.
It returned immediately.
She tried to glare at him.
He looked at her with open, wretched, impossible wanting.
Aria groaned.
“Fine.”
Regulus went still.
The corridor went still.
Aria jabbed him lightly in the chest. “Fine. One date.”
Regulus lifted his head.
His whole face changed.
Not into a smile at first.
Into shock.
Then disbelief.
Then something bright and sharp and almost boyish, breaking through the cold like morning through stormclouds.
“One date,” Aria repeated. “And I’m not promising to fancy you. I’m not promising anything. I’m going because you’re clinging to me in a corridor and making that face and frankly it’s embarrassing for everyone.”
Regulus smiled.
Actually smiled.
Small at first, then wider.
Beautiful.
Triumphant.
Pathetic.
Aria pointed at him again. “Don’t grin at me. This is not a victory.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is a date.”
“One date.”
“Yes.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You said yes.”
“I said fine whatever.”
“That is yes.”
Aria threw her head back with a groan. “Oh my God.”
Regulus pulled her back against him and held her tighter, his grin pressed into her hair.
Barty made a sound of pure despair. “He’s happy.”
Evan wiped an imaginary tear. “I’ve never been prouder.”
“You did nothing.”
“I witnessed.”
Pandora sighed dreamily. “The reversal completes its first cycle.”
Dorcas looked at her. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is romance. Ominousness is implied.”
Across the corridor, James burst out laughing.
Sirius rounded on him. “Don’t.”
James pointed helplessly. “He begged.”
“Don’t say it.”
“He begged Aria Parkinson in a corridor.”
Sirius covered his face. “I’m going to throw myself down the stairs.”
Lily smiled despite herself. “Please don’t. Madam Pomfrey has enough to do.”
Mary leaned against Marlene, cackling. “He really did cling to her.”
Marlene nodded, delighted. “Like a decorative scarf with abandonment issues.”
Peter whispered, “She said yes.”
Remus glanced at Aria and Regulus, something thoughtful and unreadable passing through his expression before he smiled faintly. “She said fine whatever.”
Alice laughed softly. “That counts.”
Frank nodded. “It sounded like consent under emotional inconvenience.”
Fabian raised both hands. “A historic day.”
Gideon leaned beside him. “A tragic day for dignity.”
Regulus lifted his head from Aria’s hair and looked across the corridor at them.
Everyone immediately pretended they had not been watching.
Badly.
James whistled.
Sirius stared at the ceiling.
Remus opened a book upside down.
Peter looked at his shoes.
Lily examined the wall.
Mary and Marlene did not even attempt subtlety.
Alice smiled politely.
Frank coughed.
Fabian and Gideon waved.
Regulus looked back at Aria.
“You said yes,” he murmured.
Aria looked up at him with an expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
He leaned closer.
Aria put a hand over his mouth.
“No.”
Regulus blinked against her palm.
She smiled sweetly. “One date does not mean you get to do whatever dramatic nonsense just popped into your head.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, offended by the accuracy.
She removed her hand.
He caught it and held it against his chest instead.
Aria looked at their hands.
Then at him.
“I’m still not into you.”
Regulus smiled like he had decided that was a temporary administrative error. “You agreed to a date.”
“One.”
“One is enough.”
“For what?”
“To begin.”
Aria stared at him.
Then, despite herself, she laughed.
It burst out of her suddenly, bright and wild and familiar, echoing down the corridor like all the years had folded in on themselves and come back wearing a different face.
Regulus’s smile deepened.
Aria heard herself laughing and shook her head.
“No,” she said, still laughing. “Don’t look pleased. I’m laughing because you’re ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“You’re clingy.”
“Yes.”
“Jealous.”
“Yes.”
“Desperate.”
Regulus’s ears went faintly pink.
Aria’s grin sharpened. “Pathetic, even.”
His chin lifted with wounded dignity. “No.”
Barty, Evan, Pandora, Dorcas, Sirius, James, Peter, Remus, Lily, Mary, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Fabian, Gideon, and Briar all said, in some variation of timing and tone, “Yes.”
Regulus looked around the corridor.
Then back at Aria.
Then, very quietly, he said, “Fine.”
Aria blinked.
Regulus bent enough to press his forehead briefly against her shoulder again, arms still around her, the picture of proud, ruined composure.
“Fine?” Aria repeated.
His voice came muffled against her jumper.
“Yes.”
She stared down at him.
Then at Briar.
Briar smiled into her hand.
Aria sighed with the full weight of a girl who had chased an impossible thing for years, caught it, lost interest, and then somehow found herself being hunted in return by the most dramatic boy in the castle.
“Fine,” she said again, softer. “One date.”
Regulus lifted his head.
His grin returned instantly.
Aria groaned. “Merlin, I’ve created a monster.”
Dorcas said, “No. You stopped feeding one and it learned to hunt.”
Pandora nodded. “Beautifully put.”
Evan clapped Barty on the shoulder. “Your boy’s growing up.”
Barty looked like he wanted to bite him. “I hate every single one of you.”
Sirius pointed at Regulus. “You and I are discussing this later.”
Regulus, still holding Aria, said, “No, we’re not.”
“We absolutely are.”
“No.”
James slung an arm around Sirius. “Let him have his date, Pads.”
“My brother just begged in public.”
Fabian grinned. “And succeeded.”
Gideon added, “Results matter.”
Lily smiled at Aria. “Are you alright?”
Aria considered this.
Regulus’s arms were warm around her. His hands rested at her back like he was making a conscious effort not to hold too tightly again. His face had settled into something quieter than triumph now, though the grin still tugged at the corners of his mouth every time he looked at her.
He looked ridiculous.
He looked happy.
He looked like a boy who had spent years pretending not to notice the sun and then panicked the moment it stopped rising for him.
Aria still did not feel what she used to feel.
No dizzy first-year devotion.
No impossible hunger for a boy who would not look back.
No thrill of chasing something cold and distant and beautifully out of reach.
But she did feel something.
Amusement.
Warmth.
A strange fondness, perhaps, for the absurdity of him.
Or perhaps just pity.
Or curiosity.
Or the dangerous little spark that came from watching Regulus Black lose a fight against his own wanting and decide, with all the terrible focus he usually reserved for Quidditch, that he intended to win.
Aria looked at Lily and shrugged.
“I’m fine.”
Regulus’s arms tightened again.
She elbowed him lightly. “Don’t push it.”
He loosened them immediately.
Briar stepped closer and touched Aria’s sleeve. “Do you want rescuing?”
Aria looked at Regulus.
Regulus looked back at her, suddenly wary.
As if, even now, he expected her to vanish again.
As if yes was fragile.
As if fine whatever was a holy vow.
Aria smiled.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
Regulus brightened so quickly it was embarrassing.
Aria pointed at him. “Stop that.”
“No.”
“You’re genuinely going to be unbearable.”
“Yes.”
“At least pretend to have shame.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Clearly.”
He slid one arm around her shoulders and pulled her back into his side, softer this time but no less possessive, tucking her there like he had finally been handed something he had been too proud to ask for and had no intention of setting down.
Aria let him.
For now.
The corridor slowly came back to life around them, everyone talking over everyone else, laughter breaking loose, Sirius complaining, James teasing, Barty spiralling, Evan making it worse, Pandora narrating the emotional ecosystem, Dorcas sharpening every observation into a blade, Briar watching Aria with warm amusement, and the others scattering into clusters of gossip and delight.
Regulus did not seem to hear any of it.
He looked only at Aria.
Aria looked back, unimpressed on principle.
“You realise,” she said, “that for years I followed you around and you ignored me.”
“Yes.”
“And now I’ve stopped, and you’re doing this.”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“You admit it?”
“I don’t care.”
Aria stared at him.
Then she laughed again.
Regulus’s mouth curved.
Not blank.
Not ignoring.
Not cold.
And Aria, who had wanted him for years and then stopped the moment he became possible, found herself dragged against the warmth of him in the middle of a corridor, with his arms around her and half the school watching, while Regulus Black looked at her as if he had finally understood the wanting of impossible things.
“Fine,” she muttered, leaning her head briefly against his chest because she was tired of standing upright against the force of his ridiculousness. “One date.”
Regulus rested his chin on top of her head.
“One date,” he agreed.
But he was smiling when he said it.
And Aria knew, with a groan already forming in the back of her throat, that he had absolutely no intention of acting like one was the end of anything.