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The strike notice came through at 6:42 a.m.
James saw it first.
He was half-dressed, tie hanging loose around his neck, toast in his mouth, already rehearsing the particular flavor of dread reserved for GCSE mock exams—Biology first period, which he’d absolutely revised for, except he hadn’t. His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He glanced down lazily.
ALL SECONDARY SCHOOLS CLOSED TODAY DUE TO TEACHER STRIKE ACTION. MOCKS RESCHEDULED.
There was a pause.
Then—
“OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL, UNIONIZED LEGENDS—”
He nearly choked on his toast.
Across town, Lily Evans read the same message twice to make sure it wasn’t some elaborate hallucination brought on by stress and caffeine withdrawal. Mary Macdonald shrieked so loudly her mother thought something had caught fire. Marlene McKinnon sent three consecutive voice notes that were just wordless screaming. Alice Fortescue calmly texted: Well. That’s a relief. Frank Longbottom replied with seventeen party emojis. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were already planning how to turn the day into something chaotic.
And Sirius Black, sprawled upside down across his bed with his feet against the wall, stared at the notification and barked out a laugh that echoed down the hall of his family’s too-big, too-cold house.
“No mocks,” he muttered to the ceiling. “No school. No teachers.”
He rolled upright, grabbed his jacket, and texted the group chat.
Padfoot: Emergency town meeting. Freedom has been granted.
By ten o’clock, they’d converged in the high street.
Sixteen-year-olds unleashed on a weekday morning carried a particular kind of energy—feral and euphoric. The town looked different without uniforms clogging the pavements and teachers prowling like disapproving vultures. It felt illicit to be out. Like they’d stolen something.
James shoved his hands in his pockets, sunglasses perched pointlessly on his head. “This,” he declared, “is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You said that when you got that 89 on your maths test,” Lily said.
“That was a dark time. I didn’t understand percentages.”
“You still don’t.”
Sirius walked backwards in front of them, grin sharp and bright. “Right. Options. We could go to the arcade. We could get milkshakes. We could break into the abandoned cinema.”
“Or,” Remus said mildly, hands tucked into his coat, “we could not commit a crime.”
Peter hovered near him, nodding. “Yeah. Not a crime.”
Fabian clapped his hands. “Park?”
Gideon snapped his fingers. “Skate park.”
“We don’t skate,” Alice pointed out.
“Details.”
They drifted without real direction, laughter rising and spilling between shopfronts. It was one of those strange spring days where the sun tried its best but the wind still bit at your ears. Marlene stole James’s chips. Lily threatened to push him into a fountain. Frank nearly did it anyway.
Sirius, distracted, pulled out his phone as they turned onto a quieter residential road.
“Hold on,” he muttered.
“What?” James said.
Sirius frowned at his screen. “Find My.”
“Tracking someone?” Mary asked.
“Relax. It’s mutual. Regulus refuses to turn it off because he’s paranoid about getting kidnapped.”
“Reasonable fear,” Gideon said.
Sirius tilted his phone. A little blue dot blinked nearby.
“He’s around here.”
“Your brother?” Lily asked.
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t he, like, twelve?” Marlene said.
“Year eight,” Sirius corrected automatically.
“Tiny,” Fabian concluded.
Sirius ignored him, scanning the road ahead. “What’s he doing out?”
“Probably also enjoying not being in school,” Remus said.
Sirius’s eyes flicked toward the corner ahead. “Come on. Let’s see.”
They turned the corner.
And stopped.
The road was wide and mostly empty, a quiet residential stretch lined with neat hedges and parked cars. In the middle of it—careful, weaving between occasional vehicles—were four boys on bikes.
Regulus was easy to spot.
Black hair wind-tossed, jaw set in concentration, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows. He pedaled hard, then lifted the front wheel in a clean little wheelie that lasted longer than it should have.
“Oi!” one of the other boys shouted. “That’s sick!”
Regulus landed it, breathless grin flashing across his face.
“Your turn, Alfie!”
They were cautious. When a car rolled slowly through, they moved aside without being told. When someone stepped out of a driveway, they paused and let them pass. They weren’t reckless—just loud and alive.
Sirius watched, something soft and almost disbelieving flickering across his face.
“Look at him,” James murmured.
“He’s good,” Frank said.
“Of course he is,” Sirius muttered, unable to help the pride in his voice. “He practices every day.”
Regulus attempted a small hop up onto the curb—wobbled—laughed at himself.
“Shut up,” he shot at his friend who was laughing too hard.
“I didn’t even say anything!”
“You were thinking it!”
Lily smiled. “He’s adorable.”
Sirius scowled reflexively. “He is not adorable.”
“He absolutely is.”
They might have kept watching, amused and fond and unseen.
If not for the woman.
She came out of her front gate like a storm breaking.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, marching toward them.
The boys skidded slightly, startled.
“Sorry?” Regulus said, automatically polite.
“You can’t be riding those on my property!”
They looked down.
They were on the public path.
Alfie blinked. “Miss, it’s the pavement—”
“Don’t argue with me!” she barked.
A car rolled slowly past on the road, so the boys shifted onto the path to let it through. Regulus was nearest the gate.
“Off,” she demanded. “Get off it.”
“We’re just waiting for the car—” Regulus began.
She grabbed his bike.
Actually grabbed it.
Her hand clamped around the handlebars and she yanked.
“What the—” Regulus stumbled as the bike jerked sideways.
“Move!” she hissed, trying to shove him back.
“Don’t touch me,” Regulus said, confused, startled. “Please don’t touch me.”
That seemed to enrage her.
The slap was sharp and sudden.
It cracked through the air.
Everything stopped.
Regulus froze.
For half a second he just stared at her, eyes wide, shock rippling across his face like someone had thrown cold water over him.
Then the color rose in his cheeks.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouted, voice breaking with fury and disbelief.
He yanked his bike free and pedaled hard toward his friends, breath uneven. “She hit me! She just hit me!”
“You nearly ran me over!” the woman shrieked.
“We didn’t!” Alfie shouted back. “We literally moved!”
“I’ll do what I like on my property!”
“It’s not your property!” Regulus yelled. “It’s the pavement!”
Sirius was already moving.
James grabbed his arm instinctively. “Sirius—”
Too late.
He crossed the distance in seconds.
“Don’t you dare,” Lily muttered, but she was following.
Sirius stepped directly between the woman and the younger boys, shoulders squared, eyes blazing.
“Did you just hit him?” he demanded.
The woman faltered for a fraction of a second at the sight of eleven older teenagers descending on her like a pack of wolves.
“He was on my—”
“Did you hit him?” Sirius repeated, voice low and shaking with restrained violence.
“He nearly ran me down!”
“We didn’t!” one of the younger boys called.
Sirius didn’t take his eyes off her. “He’s twelve.”
“He should know better!”
“He asked you not to touch him.”
She sniffed. “Children these days have no respect—”
“You don’t get to put your hands on him,” Sirius snapped.
James stepped up beside him, jaw tight. “You absolutely do not.”
Frank hovered near Regulus now, kneeling slightly. “You okay?”
Regulus blinked at him, still processing. “Yeah. I—yeah.”
There was a faint red mark on his cheek.
Sirius saw it.
Something inside him seemed to snap.
He stepped forward.
Remus caught his sleeve. “Sirius.”
The warning was quiet, but firm.
Sirius’s fists were clenched.
“You don’t get to touch him,” he said again, slower. “You don’t get to scare him. You don’t get to lie about what happened.”
“They were reckless!”
“They were careful,” Lily cut in sharply. “We saw.”
“You’re all the same,” the woman spat. “Delinquents.”
Marlene laughed, sharp and humorless. “You smacked a kid because you were annoyed.”
The woman’s face flushed.
For a moment it looked like she might escalate again.
But there were too many of them.
Too many witnesses.
Too many phones subtly raised.
She made a sound of disgust.
“Just get away from my house.”
“You don’t own the pavement,” Fabian called cheerfully.
She stormed back through her gate, slamming it hard enough to rattle.
Silence lingered.
Then Sirius turned.
The anger drained out of him so fast it left something frantic in its wake.
He cupped Regulus’s face gently.
“Let me see,” he said, voice suddenly soft.
Regulus immediately scowled. “I’m fine.”
Sirius brushed his hair back from his forehead, fingers careful. “Did she hurt you?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Reg.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, but his voice wobbled.
James shifted awkwardly, hands in his pockets, watching the red mark with narrowed eyes.
“She shouldn’t have touched you,” Sirius muttered.
“No shit.”
“Don’t swear,” Sirius said automatically.
Regulus stared at him. “You literally just—”
“Different rules.”
Regulus swatted his hands away, embarrassed. “Stop fussing.”
“I’m not fussing.”
“You’re absolutely fussing.”
Lily crouched slightly, gentler. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Regulus hesitated.
There were so many of them.
Year elevens.
Loud. Tall. Confident.
He’d heard about them.
Sirius’s friends.
They were legends at school in the way older students always were—half myth, half intimidation.
And now they were all looking at him.
He swallowed.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Alfie and the others hovered behind him, visibly unsure.
Peter offered them a small smile. “That was a good wheelie.”
Regulus’s head snapped toward him, surprised.
“You saw?”
“Yeah,” James said. “Solid balance.”
Marlene crossed her arms. “She’s lucky we didn’t call the police.”
“I wanted to,” Fabian said.
“You still can,” Gideon added helpfully.
“No,” Regulus said quickly. “It’s fine.”
Sirius frowned. “It’s not fine.”
“It is,” Regulus insisted. “We’re fine.”
There was a stubborn set to his jaw that Sirius recognized intimately.
He sighed, brushing his thumb lightly over the faint redness once more before stepping back.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Alright.”
Regulus shifted awkwardly on his bike.
His friends were trying very hard to look cool.
They were failing.
One of them whispered, “Are they all in sixth form?”
“Year eleven,” Regulus muttered back.
Frank grinned. “We’re not that scary.”
They absolutely were.
Sirius shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and forced himself to dial down the intensity.
“You lot were being safe,” he said to the younger boys. “We saw.”
Alfie puffed up slightly. “We always move for cars.”
“Good,” Remus said.
There was an awkward pause.
Regulus glanced at Sirius.
“Why are you here?”
“Day off,” Sirius replied.
Regulus blinked. “Seriously?”
“Teacher strike.”
Regulus stared at him with something like envy and betrayal. “That’s not fair.”
Sirius grinned slowly. “Life isn’t.”
“Shut up.”
James nudged Sirius. “You going to introduce us?”
Regulus went rigid.
Sirius rolled his eyes fondly. “This is Regulus. Reg, this is—well. All of them.”
“Brilliant,” Regulus muttered.
“James,” James said, offering a hand solemnly like they were in a business meeting.
Regulus looked at it, then shook it awkwardly.
“Lily,” she added with a small smile.
He nodded at her.
“Marlene.”
“Mary.”
“Alice.”
“Frank.”
“Fabian.”
“Gideon.”
“Peter.”
“Remus.”
It was overwhelming.
Regulus glanced back at his friends, who were trying to look unimpressed and failing miserably.
Sirius noticed.
“You lot heading somewhere?” he asked.
Regulus shrugged. “Just riding.”
There was a beat.
Then James said, “There’s a bigger open stretch near the park.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why are you being nice?”
Sirius barked a laugh. “We’re not. We’re supervising.”
“I don’t need supervision.”
“You just got assaulted by a middle-aged menace.”
“I handled it.”
“You yelled at her and ran away.”
“I tactically retreated.”
Sirius grinned.
The tension, slowly, began to bleed out of the air.
“Come on,” Fabian said to the younger boys. “Show us the tricks.”
Alfie’s eyes lit up. “Actually?”
“Absolutely,” Gideon said.
Regulus groaned. “You’re going to embarrass me.”
“Impossible,” Sirius replied.
Regulus rolled his eyes—but there was something steadier in him now. Less shaken.
He pushed off, pedaling back into the road.
“Watch this,” he called.
And when he lifted into another wheelie, it lasted even longer than before.
Sirius watched from the pavement, heart still hammering faintly in his chest, anger not fully gone but replaced now with something heavier and quieter.
He’d seen the slap.
He’d seen the shock.
He’d also seen his little brother stand his ground.
He exhaled slowly.
James bumped his shoulder. “He’s alright.”
Sirius nodded.
“Yeah,” he said softly.
Regulus landed the trick clean.
His friends erupted into cheers.
And this time, when he grinned—
It was all his.
The open stretch near the park was smooth, newly paved, and wide enough that even Fabian admitted it was “acceptable.”
The younger boys took that as a challenge.
Alfie went first—dark curls escaping from under his helmet, grin feral. He pedaled hard, swerved around a drain cover, popped the front of his bike up, then tried a clumsy little spin that almost ended with him toppling into a hedge.
“YES!” Gideon shouted anyway.
“I meant to do that,” Alfie called, straightening.
“You absolutely did not,” Regulus said, pushing off after him.
He rode with more control—less frantic, more deliberate. A small hop up onto the low ledge bordering the path. A glide along it. A clean drop back down.
James let out a low whistle. “Alright.”
Regulus didn’t look at him, but his shoulders squared just a fraction more.
The other two boys lingered behind, clearly calculating what would impress a cluster of year elevens who looked like they’d walked out of a coming-of-age film.
“Go on, Theo,” Alfie urged.
The taller of the remaining two groaned. “Shut up.”
Theo Carter—long limbs, permanently messy fringe—rolled forward reluctantly and attempted a short no-hands glide. It lasted three seconds.
Marlene clapped like he’d just performed at Wembley. “Iconic.”
Theo beamed despite himself.
The last boy, shorter, stockier, with sharp eyes and a mischievous mouth, adjusted his grip on the handlebars.
“Your turn, Dylan,” Regulus said.
Dylan Khan scoffed. “I’m not performing for your brother.”
“You absolutely are,” Alfie said.
Dylan shot forward anyway, pedaling fast before hopping his bike sideways in a neat little skid-stop that sent dust spraying.
Peter blinked. “Oh.”
Frank nodded approvingly. “That was decent.”
Dylan tried—and failed—to hide how pleased he was.
The younger boys circled back, breathing hard, trying to look casual while very clearly waiting for approval.
Sirius leaned against a lamppost, arms folded. “Not bad.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “That’s high praise.”
James tilted his head. “Hang on. Why are you lot even off? I thought the strike was just for year tens and elevens.”
Regulus snorted. “It is.”
“So?”
“Mum let me stay home because Sirius wasn’t going in,” he said. “She said she wasn’t driving just me.”
Sirius smirked. “Perks of being the favorite.”
Regulus nearly fell off his bike. “You are absolutely not the favorite.”
“Debatable.”
Alfie chimed in, “My school shut completely. We get, like, any excuse off.”
“Lucky,” Mary muttered.
Theo cleared his throat. “I may have… negotiated.”
“With tears,” Dylan supplied.
Theo flushed. “It wasn’t tears.”
“It was absolutely tears,” Regulus said.
Theo pointed at him accusingly. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”
“I didn’t,” Regulus said innocently. “You did.”
James grinned. “What was the pitch?”
Theo huffed. “I told my dad I’d fall behind in ‘independent creative development’ if I didn’t have a rest day.”
Remus blinked slowly. “That’s… bold.”
“He cried,” Dylan repeated.
“I did not cry.”
“You did that voice,” Alfie insisted in falsetto, “‘Dad, I’m just really overwhelmed.’”
Theo lunged at him with a yelp.
“And you?” Lily asked Dylan.
Dylan shrugged lazily. “Skipped.”
There was a beat.
“You what?” Alice said.
“Just didn’t go,” he replied. “Mum left early. I left later.”
Fabian stared at him like he’d just confessed to espionage. “You absolute menace.”
“It’s year eight,” Dylan said. “We don’t have anything important.”
Regulus huffed at that, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “We do.”
The older teens turned to him.
“We actually do,” he insisted. “I like Wednesdays.”
“Of course you do,” Sirius muttered.
Regulus ignored him. “I’ve got English first—today we’re doing spoken word stuff and I was going to read mine. Then art, and we’re finishing our surrealism pieces and mine’s nearly done. Then music—we’re composing in groups, and Theo was supposed to bring the keyboard.”
Theo looked offended. “I brought it!”
“You left it at mine.”
“Oh.”
“Then drama,” Regulus continued, warming to his rant. “We’re blocking scenes. Then textiles—we’re sewing tote bags and mine actually looks good. Then food tech, and we’re doing laminated pastry, and mine rises properly because I don’t overwork it like everyone else—”
James stared. “You have food tech?”
“Yes.”
“And engineering,” Regulus finished triumphantly. “We’re building little bridge models and testing weight limits.”
There was silence.
Marlene looked devastated. “That sounds incredible.”
“You get all that in one day?” Frank demanded.
“Yes.”
“We have double maths and a mock exam,” Peter said faintly.
“And revision assemblies,” Remus added.
“We forgot how easy you lot have it,” Fabian said, shaking his head.
“It’s not easy,” Dylan protested. “We have homework.”
“What, spelling tests?” Gideon teased.
“Yeah,” Alfie said proudly. “And maths quizzes. They’re fun.”
The year elevens collectively stared at them like they’d just described a fairyland.
“And we don’t have exams,” Theo added smugly.
“Of course you don’t,” Lily muttered darkly.
Regulus crossed his arms. “Also, our year’s doing a baking competition.”
Sirius glanced at him. “You entered.”
“Obviously I entered.”
Dylan let out a dramatic groan. “He’s going to win.”
“I might,” Regulus corrected, but he looked pleased.
“What do you make?” Alice asked.
“Everything,” Alfie said reverently. “His cinnamon rolls are insane.”
“And brownies,” Theo added. “And he does this stupid fancy braided bread.”
“It’s not stupid,” Regulus snapped. “It’s challah.”
James blinked. “You bake challah?”
“Yes.”
There was a short, stunned silence.
“The prize,” Dylan said, “is a massive trophy, a fifty-quid gift card, certificate, and you get featured on the school Instagram.”
Regulus tried—and failed—to look indifferent. “It’s not about the prize.”
“It absolutely is,” Theo said.
“It’s the principle.”
“It’s the Instagram,” Alfie corrected.
Sirius was staring at his brother like he’d just discovered a secret second life.
“You’re entering a baking competition,” he said slowly.
“Yes.”
“And you care about the school Instagram.”
“Shut up.”
“And laminated pastry.”
“Stop talking.”
The others were laughing now.
“And,” Dylan continued gleefully, “there’s a year eight disco on Friday.”
The older teens groaned in unison.
“No,” Marlene said.
“Yes,” Alfie confirmed. “With lights and everything.”
“And in, like, a week,” Theo added, “some girls in our year are doing an ice cream sale to raise money for charity. Just for our year.”
Regulus went very still.
Dylan’s grin turned wicked.
“Oh,” he said.
Alfie made a soft, dramatic gasp. “Should we tell them?”
“Don’t,” Regulus warned.
James leaned forward eagerly. “Tell us what.”
Theo slung an arm over Regulus’s shoulders. “Our Reg here is in love.”
“I am not.”
“You’ve liked her since year seven,” Dylan said.
Sirius’s head snapped around. “Her?”
Regulus flushed crimson. “Shut up.”
“What’s her name?” Lily asked gently.
Regulus hesitated.
Then, quieter, “Clara Hughes.”
He said it like it mattered.
Alfie clasped his hands to his chest. “He’s obsessed.”
“I am not obsessed.”
“You sigh,” Theo said.
“You stare,” Dylan added.
“You get weirdly protective if someone else talks to her,” Alfie finished.
Regulus shoved them away, mortified. “I do not.”
James grinned. “What’s she like?”
Regulus’s expression shifted.
Softened.
“She’s just—” He huffed, trying to downplay it, and failing completely. “She’s smart. Like, properly smart. And she’s funny, but not in a loud way. And she plays drums.”
“Drums?” Frank repeated.
“Yeah. In music. She’s really good.”
Theo nodded. “She is.”
“And she’s good at sports,” Regulus continued, warming despite himself. “We’re both on athletics. We sort of—talk. About that. And books. And stuff.”
Sirius was watching him carefully now.
“She doesn’t know?” Mary asked.
Regulus shook his head. “No.”
“You’ve liked her for two years,” Dylan said. “Everyone knows.”
“Our entire year knows,” Alfie added helpfully.
Regulus groaned. “She doesn’t.”
“And he’s going to give her something from the baking competition,” Theo said.
“I might,” Regulus muttered.
“And ask her to dance at the disco,” Dylan finished triumphantly.
Regulus stared at the ground, then exhaled, dreamy and helpless. “Maybe.”
Sirius made a strangled noise.
“What?” Regulus demanded defensively.
“You’re twelve.”
“I’m thirteen in six months.”
“That’s not better.”
Regulus scowled. “She’s perfect.”
The older teens went quiet at the sincerity in his voice.
“She’s prettier than me,” he added absently. “And cooler. And she doesn’t even try. She just is.”
“You’re doing fine, mate,” James said gently.
Regulus ignored him, lost in it. “I’m going to give her one of the pastries. And maybe at the disco I’ll just—ask. Casually.”
“Casually,” Dylan echoed.
“And World Book Day’s coming up,” Theo said suddenly, pivoting with chaotic enthusiasm. “We get to dress up.”
The year elevens recoiled like they’d been slapped.
“You get to dress up?” Marlene demanded.
“Yeah,” Alfie said. “Older years don’t.”
“We know,” Lily muttered bitterly.
“I’m going as Raskolnikov,” Theo announced proudly.
There was a beat.
Remus blinked. “From Crime and Punishment?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s niche,” Theo said defensively.
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I’m going as the fox from The Little Prince.”
Alfie grinned. “I’m doing Artemis Fowl.”
James stared. “You lot are insufferable.”
Regulus shifted on his bike, trying—and failing—to look casual.
“Clara’s going as Coraline.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “And?”
Regulus’s lips twitched. “So I’m going as Wybie.”
There was an explosion of noise from the older teens.
“You manipulative little—” Fabian wheezed.
“It’s subtle,” Regulus insisted. “It’s just—coordinated coincidence.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Lily said, laughing.
“And,” Dylan continued, “we’re sneaking Alfie into everything.”
“What?” Peter said.
“The field trips,” Theo said calmly. “We’ve got Alton Towers and the zoo.”
“Only for year eights,” Alfie added mournfully.
“So we’re sneaking him on the coach,” Dylan finished.
“You cannot just—” Frank began.
“We’ve done it before,” Regulus said casually.
Sirius’s head whipped around. “You have not.”
“We have.”
“How?”
Theo grinned. “High-vis vest.”
Dylan nodded. “Confidence.”
“And for the disco,” Alfie said eagerly, “I’ll just come through the side gate. Reg knows the caretaker.”
Sirius stared at his little brother in dawning horror.
“And the summer barbecue water party,” Dylan added.
“The dog shelter lady’s coming in,” Theo said excitedly. “With puppies. To raise money.”
“We get to cuddle them,” Alfie breathed.
“And there’s a movie night sleepover,” Regulus continued, unable to stop now. “With Domino’s.”
The year elevens looked stricken.
“You have Domino’s?” Gideon croaked.
“Yes.”
“We had a maths revision night,” Mary said faintly.
“And we didn’t even get pizza,” James added darkly.
Regulus looked at them all, then leaned back on his bike, smug settling into his posture.
“It’s not our fault your year was boring.”
Dylan nodded solemnly. “Reg’s the coolest in our year anyway.”
There was a chorus of agreement.
“He does art,” Theo said.
“And bakes,” Alfie added.
“And he’s on, like, three sports teams,” Dylan said.
“And he’s smart,” Theo finished.
“And everyone fancies him,” Alfie concluded.
Regulus didn’t deny it.
He just smiled—small, satisfied, infuriatingly pleased with himself.
Sirius stared at him.
“You are twelve.”
“Nearly thirteen,” Regulus corrected, smug as anything.
Regulus had the look of someone unveiling a military operation.
He’d dismounted his bike at some point, now pacing slowly in front of them while the others lounged on benches and low railings. His friends sat nearby on the curb, nodding along like loyal advisors at court.
Sirius watched with narrowed eyes.
“So,” Regulus began, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, “the baking competition is phase one.”
“Phase one,” James repeated faintly.
“Yes. I’ll give Clara something I’ve made. Not in a weird way,” he added quickly. “Just casual. Like—‘Oh, I made too many, do you want one?’”
“You never make too many,” Dylan said.
Regulus ignored him. “And if she likes it, that’s good. That’s data.”
“Data,” Marlene echoed, delighted.
“Then the disco,” Regulus continued, warming to his theme. “I’ll ask her to dance.”
“You’ve never danced in your life,” Sirius said.
“I can learn.”
“You cannot.”
“I can,” Regulus snapped. “And if it’s slow, it doesn’t matter.”
He hesitated, then added, quieter, “I might ask the DJ to play something slow.”
There was a collective noise from the older teens.
“You are terrifying,” Fabian breathed.
“And,” Regulus pressed on, cheeks pink but determined, “I’ll get her drinks. From the table. So she doesn’t have to push through everyone.”
“Little gentleman,” Alice murmured approvingly.
“I’ll make sure she eats,” he added, as though that was part of a tactical plan. “And if she’s tired, I’ll—like—make sure she’s okay.”
Theo snorted. “You already hover.”
“I do not hover.”
“You absolutely hover,” Dylan said. “You carry her bag.”
“That’s because it’s heavy.”
“You open doors.”
“That’s basic manners.”
“You gave her your seat in science,” Alfie said.
“She had a cramp.”
The older girls were barely containing themselves now.
“Oh my god,” Mary breathed.
“And the ice cream sale,” Regulus went on, increasingly intense. “She and her friends are running it. So I’m buying loads.”
“How much is loads?” Frank asked.
“I’ve saved,” Regulus replied defensively. “I’ll help carry stuff too. They’ll probably have coolers and tables.”
“And you think this will make her like you?” Sirius asked carefully.
Regulus faltered for half a second.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’ll make her day easier.”
There was something disarmingly simple about that.
“And Alton Towers,” he continued, regaining momentum. “I’ll sit next to her on the rides.”
Theo smirked. “So she can hold onto you.”
Regulus didn’t even deny it. “If she wants.”
James choked on air.
“I’ll get the ride photos,” Regulus added. “Like, if we look good. And I’ll buy her something. A keychain or something. And food.”
“You are twelve,” Sirius repeated faintly.
“Nearly thirteen.”
“The zoo?” Lily prompted, half amused, half invested.
Regulus’s expression softened again. “We’ll walk around together. I’ve already thought of stuff to talk about. Like facts about animals she likes. She likes red pandas.”
“Of course she does,” Dylan muttered.
“And I’ll see if she wants to hold hands,” Regulus finished, almost to himself.
There was a soft silence after that.
“And the barbecue?” Fabian asked, grinning.
“I’ll do the water fight with her,” Regulus said quickly. “But I won’t let anyone drench her if she doesn’t want it. And I’ll get her food. So she doesn’t have to queue.”
“He guards her plate at lunch,” Alfie supplied.
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“And when the dog shelter lady comes,” Regulus continued, stubbornly pressing on, “I’ll make sure the puppies go to her first.”
The girls made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a sigh.
“You’re weaponizing puppies,” Marlene accused.
“I’m not weaponizing,” Regulus snapped, scandalized. “I just know she likes them.”
“And movie night?” Alice asked softly.
Regulus swallowed.
“We’ll probably sit next to each other,” he said. “If there’s space.”
“And?” Mary prompted.
“And maybe—” He hesitated, visibly bracing himself. “Maybe she’ll lean on me. Or something.”
James made a strangled choking noise.
“Stop reacting like that!” Regulus burst out.
“You’re planning physical contact like it’s a NASA launch,” Gideon wheezed.
“And World Book Day,” Regulus continued fiercely. “Matching costumes.”
“‘Total coincidence,’” Dylan mimicked.
Regulus shot him a glare. “I’ll just say I like the book.”
“You do not like the book,” Theo said.
“I’ve read it,” Regulus retorted defensively.
Sirius stared at his little brother as though he’d discovered a secret double agent living in his house.
“And that’s not even the worst of it,” Alfie added gleefully.
Regulus groaned. “Don’t.”
“He draws her,” Theo said.
“Reg,” Dylan added, “has drawn Clara at least fifteen times.”
Regulus went scarlet. “Not fifteen.”
“Eighteen,” Alfie corrected.
“And gives them to her,” Dylan continued.
The older teens were staring.
“She keeps them,” Theo said, triumphant.
Regulus froze. “What?”
Theo grinned wickedly. “Her friends told us. They’re on her wall. In her bedroom.”
There was a moment of absolute stillness.
Regulus blinked.
“She—what?”
“They’re on her wall,” Alfie repeated. “Above her desk.”
Regulus looked like someone had just told him he’d won a national award.
“She didn’t tell me that.”
“She wouldn’t,” Dylan said. “That’d be obvious.”
Regulus looked faintly dazed.
The girls were vibrating with excitement.
“And he writes about her in English,” Theo added helpfully.
“Shut up.”
“You do.”
“And always partners with her in drama,” Dylan said. “Especially if it’s romantic.”
Regulus folded in on himself slightly. “That’s because we work well together.”
“You kissed her cheek once,” Alfie said, delighted.
“It was in the script!”
“Still counts.”
Sirius looked like he needed to sit down.
“And you watch her games,” Lily said gently.
Regulus nodded, quieter now. “Yeah.”
“She makes her friends watch yours,” Theo added.
Regulus’s head snapped toward him. “She does not.”
“She does.”
He went still again.
“And you study together,” Mary said.
“Sometimes,” Regulus admitted. “Or read in the library.”
“And he makes her stuff,” Dylan went on. “Baking. Art. He knitted her a scarf in textiles.”
“It was not knitted—”
“It was knitted.”
“And in engineering,” Theo said, “he made that little metal key thing and gave it to her.”
Regulus shifted uncomfortably. “It was just scrap.”
“She has it on her bag,” Alfie said.
The older teens looked collectively stunned.
Marlene finally leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes sharp and bright.
“And what,” she asked softly, “if she doesn’t like you back?”
The question cut through the teasing.
Regulus stilled.
The smugness drained.
His shoulders dipped slightly.
He looked down at his trainers.
“I mean,” he said after a moment, voice smaller. “Then she doesn’t.”
The wind tugged at his hair.
“I’d be sad,” he admitted, barely audible. “Obviously. But I wouldn’t—like—make it weird. I’d never pressure her.”
The sincerity in his voice was almost painful.
“I still want her to be my friend,” he said. “Even if that’s all. And if she’s okay with it, I’d still—do stuff. Nice stuff. Just not—like—expect anything.”
There was a quiet in the group that hadn’t been there before.
Mary’s expression softened visibly.
“God,” she said quietly. “You’re going to ruin boys your age.”
Marlene turned slowly toward James and Sirius. “Do you see this?”
James held his hands up defensively. “I bring snacks.”
“Regulus has more game than all of you combined,” Alice declared.
“That’s humiliating,” Fabian said.
“He plans,” Lily said, impressed. “He listens. He pays attention.”
Sirius made a strangled noise. “He’s twelve.”
“Nearly thirteen,” Regulus muttered automatically.
Mary slid off the bench and crouched in front of him like a coach.
“Alright,” she said. “Advice.”
Regulus straightened immediately.
“You walk on the outside of the pavement,” she said. “Always.”
He nodded seriously.
“You remember dates,” Alice added. “If she tells you something’s important, you write it down.”
Regulus’s eyes widened. “Write it down?”
“In your phone,” Marlene said. “Anniversaries. Things she mentions she likes.”
“Take her places,” Lily added. “Actually plan it. Not just ‘what do you want to do.’”
Regulus nodded again, absorbing every word.
“Give her your hoodie,” Mary said. “Or your coat. And let her keep it.”
Sirius inhaled sharply.
“Little notes,” Alice added. “Not just big gestures. Random ones.”
“Open doors,” Marlene said. “But don’t make it weird.”
“Compliment her specifically,” Lily added. “Not just ‘you’re pretty.’ Tell her what you actually notice.”
Regulus’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Like what?”
“Like how she plays drums,” Lily said. “Or the way she laughs. Or something she worked hard on.”
He nodded, serious as anything.
“And,” Mary added gently, “make sure she feels safe. Not pressured.”
Regulus’s answer was immediate. “I would never pressure her.”
They believed him.
He looked between them, earnest and wide-eyed, asking quietly, “Is asking her to dance too much?”
“No,” Marlene said firmly.
“It’s perfect,” Alice added.
“Just ask,” Lily said. “And whatever she says—you handle it with grace.”
Regulus nodded like he’d been handed sacred instructions.
“Grace,” he repeated.
Theo leaned back on his hands, watching the entire exchange with a grin.
“Told you he’s the coolest.”
Dylan nodded. “Everyone fancies him.”
Alfie added, “Or wants to be him.”
Regulus’s mouth curved slowly into something smug again.
Sirius groaned into his hands.
“I cannot believe,” he muttered, “that my little brother is getting dating coaching.”
Regulus looked up at him, chin lifting slightly.
“I’m serious about her,” he said simply.
And for once, no one laughed.
The conversation had fractured into pockets.
James and Fabian were debating whether it was morally acceptable to sneak into a year eight disco “for research.” Lily and Alice were still lecturing Regulus on the importance of emotional intelligence. Sirius stood slightly apart now, arms folded but calmer, watching his brother with a strange mixture of disbelief and reluctant admiration.
Regulus was mid-sentence, animated, explaining to Theo why laminated pastry required patience—
When Alfie froze.
Dylan elbowed him.
Theo followed their gaze.
“Oh,” Theo murmured.
A group of girls were walking past on the opposite pavement. Year eight. Laughing. Loud. The kind of easy, bright energy that came with not having mocks or looming adulthood pressing at your spine.
One of them slowed.
Her head turned.
Her eyes lit up.
Alfie made a choking noise. “Incoming.”
Regulus, oblivious, was still gesturing with his hands. “—and if you don’t chill the butter properly, it melts into the dough and ruins the layers—”
She crossed the street.
Calmly.
Confidently.
And stopped just behind him.
She was shorter than him by a couple of inches. Dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Clear skin. Bright, curious eyes that seemed to hold light inside them.
Her friends lingered a few steps back, smirking.
She smiled at his back for a second—soft, fond, almost private.
Then she leaned in slightly and said, gentle and teasing:
“Reggie.”
The name slid into the air like it belonged there.
Regulus jerked so violently he nearly tripped over his own trainers.
His shoulders snapped up. He spun around.
And melted.
The transformation was immediate and catastrophic.
His entire face flushed pink in a way that would have mortified him under any other circumstance. His eyes widened—then softened. His mouth fell open slightly before rearranging itself into a grin so earnest it hurt to look at.
“Clara,” he breathed.
The older girls made a soft collective cooing noise behind their hands.
She swayed slightly on her heels, hands tucked behind her back.
“Hi,” she said brightly.
He blinked, clearly rebooting his brain.
“Hi,” he echoed, voice cracking halfway through.
Her friends drifted closer now, pretending not to be invested.
Regulus straightened abruptly.
Advice.
Outside of pavement. Compliments. Specific.
He swallowed.
“You—um.” He gestured vaguely. “Your eyes look—really nice today.”
There was a stunned silence from his entire audience.
Clara’s brows lifted, delighted.
“My eyes?”
“They’re always nice,” he rushed. “I just mean—like—the colour. It’s—bright.”
She giggled. Actually giggled. A small, breathy sound that made him flush deeper.
“Thank you, Reggie,” she said softly.
He visibly preened.
“And your outfit,” he added quickly, remembering. “It’s cool. The jacket. It suits you.”
She glanced down at herself, then back at him with sparkling eyes. “You noticed?”
“Of course I noticed.”
The answer came out without hesitation.
Her expression shifted slightly at that—something warmer.
“Well,” she said, smiling shyly now, “you look nice too.”
Regulus actually smoothed down his hoodie and ran a hand through his hair like he’d just been awarded a medal.
“Thanks.”
Behind them, Dylan whispered, “He’s feral.”
Theo elbowed him to shut up.
Clara glanced around at the older teens and the bikes.
“What are you doing?” she asked Regulus, tilting her head.
He cleared his throat, trying desperately to remember how to form sentences.
“Just—riding. Showing off,” he admitted.
She perked up instantly. “Can I join?”
His grin was immediate and blinding.
“Yes. Obviously. What do you want to—”
He stopped.
Advice.
Don’t just ask what do you want to do.
He recalibrated mid-sentence.
“Do you want to ride?” he asked instead. “You can use my bike.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She hesitated for half a second, then bit her lip.
“Could I ride with you?” she asked.
He blinked.
“With me?”
“Like—together. I’ve seen people do it. Like sitting behind each other. Or on the handlebars.”
The older teens made various choking sounds.
Regulus stared at her, brain visibly buffering.
“How—like—” he gestured vaguely. “Behind?”
“Or on the front,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
He hummed, serious, considering the logistics like an engineer assessing a bridge design.
“Handlebars might be easier,” he decided. “I can balance better that way.”
Her smile widened.
“Okay.”
He immediately tugged off his helmet and knee pads.
“Here,” he said, stepping closer. His hands were suddenly very careful. “Let me.”
He helped slide the helmet onto her head, fingers brushing lightly against her hair as he adjusted the strap under her chin.
“You comfortable?” he asked quietly.
She nodded.
“Pads,” he said, kneeling slightly to fasten them properly. He was meticulous. Gentle.
The older girls were practically vibrating.
Clara watched him the entire time, cheeks faintly pink.
“Ready?” he asked, standing.
She nodded again.
He swung onto the bike first, steadying it with his feet.
“Okay,” he said, holding his hands out. “Hands.”
She placed her hands in his.
He tightened his grip gently and guided her up, lifting slightly at her waist as she climbed onto the handlebars. She settled carefully, legs angled to the side, back instinctively leaning into his chest.
He adjusted his hold around her waist to keep her steady.
“Got you,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched slightly—but she smiled.
“Don’t let me fall.”
“Never.”
He pushed off slowly.
At first, it was cautious. Testing balance. Adjusting weight.
Clara laughed immediately, bright and delighted.
“This is so cool!”
He grinned, chin resting lightly against her shoulder for stability.
“Tell me if you feel wobbly.”
“I trust you,” she said.
His heart visibly exploded.
The older teens were losing their minds.
James clutched Sirius’s arm. “He has more game than I’ve ever had.”
Sirius was staring, horrified and impressed all at once.
Clara lifted her arms slightly in exhilaration.
“Go faster!”
Regulus didn’t even hesitate.
He pushed harder on the pedals.
Careful—but faster.
The wind caught her hair. She laughed louder, leaning back against him fully now, trusting his balance entirely.
He adjusted instinctively, one arm tightening slightly around her waist.
“You okay?” he asked near her ear.
“Yes!” she shouted. “Faster!”
He grinned, thrilled at the command.
He liked her bossing him around.
He picked up speed again, weaving gently across the open stretch, completely in control.
Clara’s hands flew up again in delight.
Everyone watching erupted into chaos.
“OH MY GOD!”
“REGULUS BLACK!”
“WHAT IS THIS!”
Theo and Dylan were screaming. Alfie was jumping up and down. Clara’s friends were clutching each other, shrieking.
Lily actually had her hands over her mouth.
“He’s resting his chin on her shoulder,” she whispered, scandalized.
And he was.
Careful. Close.
Clara twisted slightly to look back at him, eyes bright and breathless.
“You’re really good at this.”
His grin turned almost smug.
“Told you.”
She laughed again, leaning back into him as he guided them in a wide arc.
The road was still mostly empty. He checked both ways instinctively before turning them back toward the group.
When he slowed, it was gradual and controlled.
He stopped smoothly.
He held her waist again as she hopped down, steadying her until both her feet were firmly planted.
She turned to him, flushed and glowing.
“That was amazing.”
His entire face softened.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She reached up and squeezed his hand briefly before stepping back.
Regulus looked like someone had just handed him the sun.
Behind them, the older teens were still in absolute disbelief.
Sirius dragged a hand down his face.
“I cannot,” he muttered, “compete with this.”
Clara didn’t step away from him after the ride.
She stayed close.
Close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest every time she shifted her weight. Close enough that their hands kept finding each other without either of them consciously deciding to make it happen.
They drifted a little to the side of the group, not far—but far enough that the noise behind them blurred into background static.
Regulus bent to unclip the helmet from beneath her chin.
“Did it feel okay?” he asked, voice softer now.
“It was perfect,” she said immediately.
He smiled—small, pleased, almost shy—and lifted the helmet off carefully. His fingers brushed through her hair as he did, gentle and unhurried.
“Oh,” she said, reaching up to pat at her head. “I probably look ridiculous.”
“You don’t,” he said without hesitation.
He crouched slightly to undo the knee pads too, setting everything neatly beside his bike. Then he stood in front of her again, frowning lightly at a strand of hair stuck awkwardly to her cheek.
“Hold still,” he murmured.
He reached out and tucked it behind her ear.
Clara froze for half a second.
Then she smiled—soft and bright and a little dazed.
Behind them, Theo leaned into Dylan.
“They’re disgusting.”
“I know,” Dylan whispered back, delighted.
Meanwhile, Clara’s friends had wandered over properly now.
Three girls.
Sophie Turner—sharp eyeliner, permanent smirk.
Amara Patel—braids and the kind of calm that missed nothing.
Jess Nguyen—wide grin and zero volume control.
They greeted Alfie and Theo like co-conspirators.
“Hi,” Sophie said sweetly. “So this is the fan club?”
Theo grinned. “We were here first.”
Amara glanced toward Regulus and Clara and then back at the boys. “They’re so obvious.”
“It’s painful,” Dylan agreed.
Jess clasped her hands dramatically. “He looks at her like she hung the moon.”
“Shut up,” Alfie hissed, though he was grinning.
Behind them, the older teens were in varying states of meltdown.
James was doubled over laughing.
Marlene had her hands over her mouth, eyes shining.
“Oh my god, he fixed her hair.”
Sirius looked like someone had unplugged him from reality.
Meanwhile—
Regulus pulled his hoodie off without thinking and held it out.
“Here.”
Clara blinked. “What?”
“You’re cold,” he said simply.
“I’m not.”
“You will be.”
She took it anyway.
It swallowed her whole.
The sleeves covered her hands; the hem dropped past her hips. She pulled it on fully and inhaled without meaning to.
It smelled like him.
Laundry detergent and something faintly sweet—cinnamon, maybe.
She hugged herself slightly.
“It’s big,” she said, grinning up at him.
“It’s supposed to be.”
She rocked on her heels. “What if I steal it?”
He didn’t even hesitate.
“You can.”
Her smile faltered—then widened.
“Really?”
“It was yours the second you put it on,” he said lightly. “Looks better on you anyway.”
The blush that flooded her face was immediate and deep.
“Reg,” she whispered.
“You are,” he added quickly, as if it were just factual. “Really pretty.”
She made a soft, overwhelmed sound and bounced slightly on her feet like she didn’t know what to do with herself.
Jess physically grabbed Sophie’s arm.
“Oh my GOD.”
Clara reached out and took Regulus’s hand.
Not shy about it.
She laced their fingers together.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she leaned into him—hugging his arm lightly, cheek brushing his shoulder.
He froze for half a second.
Then relaxed.
His thumb brushed across the back of her hand.
“So,” he said, trying to sound casual and failing just a little. “What were you doing today?”
“Nothing,” she said. “We were just walking. I was probably going to go home.”
He nodded slowly.
There was a pause.
The kind of pause that held something in it.
He swallowed.
“Do you—um.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to see a movie?”
She looked up at him.
“With you?”
“Yeah. I mean—if you want. I’ll pay. Obviously.”
Behind them, Sirius made a strangled noise.
Clara tilted her head slightly, eyes sparkling.
“Is it a date?”
The word landed between them.
Regulus paused.
He looked at her face—really looked at her.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. Then, almost like a question, “If you want.”
Her entire expression lit up.
“Yes.”
The tension visibly drained out of him.
His shoulders dropped. He let out a breath he’d clearly been holding.
“Cool,” he said quickly, grin spreading uncontrollably. “Awesome. Yeah. Cool.”
He laughed under his breath, almost giddy.
“I can bike us there,” he added. “If you want. Or we can walk. Or—whatever.”
She squeezed his hand.
“Okay.”
There was a beat.
Then she asked, softer:
“So… does this mean we’re dating?”
The older teens stopped breathing.
Regulus blinked.
He hesitated.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “If you want.”
She smiled wider.
“But,” he added quickly, earnest and slightly flustered, “I’d really like to ask you properly. Like—another day. With flowers. And stuff. If that’s okay.”
Clara made a small, high-pitched squeal she couldn’t contain.
“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s okay.”
They just stood there for a second.
Grinning.
Staring at each other like they’d just unlocked something enormous.
Theo fell backwards onto the grass.
Dylan was screaming silently into his hands.
Jess actually jumped up and down.
The older teens erupted.
“WHAT?”
“NO WAY.”
“HE DID NOT JUST—”
James clutched Sirius again. “Your brother has unreal game.”
Sirius looked shell-shocked.
“He’s twelve,” he whispered.
“Nearly thirteen!” Alfie shouted gleefully.
Clara tugged Regulus slightly closer, still holding his hand.
“Hi,” she said again, like she was rediscovering him.
“Hi,” he echoed.
They were both smiling so hard it looked like it hurt.
Fabian leaned toward Gideon. “We are failures.”
“Absolute failures,” Gideon agreed.
Marlene pointed at Regulus. “That’s how you do it.”
James put a hand over his heart. “I’m taking notes.”
Sirius dragged both hands down his face again.
“I can’t believe,” he muttered, “that he just secured a date and soft-launched a relationship in under ten minutes.”
Clara rested her forehead lightly against Regulus’s shoulder.
He tilted his head down toward her instinctively.
They looked absurdly, painfully happy.
And the rest of them—
Year elevens, self-proclaimed masters of chaos—
Could only stand there in stunned awe while a nearly-thirteen-year-old boy absolutely outclassed them.
The chaos didn’t die down.
It mutated.
The year elevens were in complete disarray.
Frank was pacing in a small circle, hands on his head. “He said ‘I’d like to ask you properly’—who taught him that?”
Alice folded her arms and gave him a look. “Not you.”
Frank gasped. “Rude.”
“You asked me out by texting ‘u free?’” she reminded him sweetly.
“That was suave.”
“It was 11:47 p.m.,” she deadpanned.
Fabian pointed accusingly at Frank. “You once tried to impress her by juggling oranges.”
Frank flushed. “I panicked.”
“You dropped them,” Gideon added helpfully.
“They were slippery!”
Marlene cackled. “And now a twelve-year-old just soft-launched a relationship with emotional clarity and flowers pending.”
James was still staring at Regulus like he’d witnessed sorcery.
“I have liked Lily,” he began dramatically, “since year seven.”
Lily arched an eyebrow. “And?”
“And we are still not together.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Peter coughed into his fist. “Remember when you tried to serenade her in year nine?”
James winced. “We don’t speak of that.”
“With a ukulele,” Remus added calmly.
“You don’t even know how to play,” Mary said.
“It was symbolic,” James protested.
“You sang off-key,” Lily said flatly.
“And you tripped over a bin,” Gideon added.
The girls burst into laughter.
Fabian clutched his chest. “I dated that girl from St. Catherine’s for two weeks.”
“You mean the one who thought your name was ‘Gideon’ the entire time?” Marlene asked.
“That was one time!”
“She never corrected herself,” Gideon said. “You just let her.”
Peter shifted awkwardly. “I had a girlfriend once.”
The group went silent.
“When?” James demanded.
“Year eight,” Peter mumbled.
“How long?”
“Four days.”
“What happened?”
“She said I was ‘nice’ and then dated someone else.”
Marlene patted his shoulder. “Tragic.”
Remus adjusted his sleeves calmly. “I dated someone in year ten.”
Everyone turned.
“You did?” Lily asked.
“Yes.”
“How did that go?” Fabian said.
“She broke up with me because I was ‘emotionally distant.’”
James blinked. “You are emotionally distant.”
“I am not,” Remus replied mildly.
“You read poetry at people instead of expressing feelings,” Mary said.
“That is expressing feelings.”
Sirius had gone very quiet.
He was watching Regulus and Clara—who were still standing too close, still smiling at each other like idiots.
“That is my little brother,” Sirius said faintly.
“Yes,” Lily said.
“He cannot have a girlfriend.”
“He does,” Alice replied gently.
“He’s meant to be small.”
“He is small.”
“He’s growing up,” James said, clapping him on the back.
Sirius looked betrayed. “I don’t want him to grow up.”
“You snuck out at thirteen,” Fabian reminded him.
“That was different.”
“How?”
“It just was!”
Meanwhile—
The year eights were thriving.
Theo and Dylan were high-fiving like they’d personally orchestrated history.
Alfie was chanting, “Date! Date! Date!”
Clara’s friends finally approached properly, stepping into Regulus’s space with grins.
“Hi,” Sophie said sweetly.
Regulus straightened slightly, still holding Clara’s hand.
“Hi,” he said, flushing a little but smiling. “You good?”
Amara tilted her head. “We’re great. You?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Jess leaned closer. “You finally asked her.”
Regulus’s blush deepened. “Yeah.”
“We were taking bets,” Sophie admitted.
“You were not.”
“We absolutely were,” Amara said.
Clara buried her face briefly against Regulus’s chest in embarrassment, laughing.
Regulus instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist.
She hugged his torso, cheek pressed against him, grinning shamelessly.
The older teens collectively lost their composure again.
“They’re so calm,” Lily whispered.
“They’re cooler than us,” Fabian muttered.
“They are cooler than us,” Gideon agreed.
Theo turned to Clara’s friends. “So. Since Romeo and Juliet are off to the cinema…”
“Romeo?” Regulus protested.
Clara giggled.
“…what are you three doing?” Dylan finished smoothly.
Sophie shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Bored,” Jess added.
Theo grinned. “Hang out with us?”
“As friends,” Alfie clarified quickly, trying and failing to sound casual.
Amara exchanged a look with Sophie.
The boys were harmless. Funny. Familiar.
And bored was bored.
“Sure,” Sophie said finally.
Dylan pumped his fist subtly.
“Cool,” Theo said, pretending he hadn’t just exhaled in relief.
Behind them, the year elevens were still spiraling.
Clara glanced toward the older group, curiosity flickering across her face.
“Who are they?” she asked quietly.
Regulus followed her gaze.
He smirked faintly.
“That’s my brother,” he said, nodding toward Sirius. “And his friends.”
Clara’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“They look intense.”
“They’re annoying,” Regulus said lightly.
Clara’s friends snorted.
Sirius, who absolutely saw that exchange, pointed at Regulus.
“Did he just call me annoying?”
“Yes,” James confirmed.
“Unbelievable.”
Clara tugged Regulus’s hand gently. “Your brother’s kind of scary.”
Regulus squeezed her fingers.
“He’s fine,” he said. “He just thinks I’m still, like, nine.”
Sirius made a wounded noise in the distance.
Theo slung an arm over Dylan’s shoulders.
“Right,” he announced. “Let’s leave the lovebirds to it.”
Jess grinned at Clara. “Text us.”
Clara nodded, still smiling so wide it hurt.
Regulus glanced back at the older teens once more.
“You lot good?” he called casually.
James stared at him in disbelief.
“We’re not the ones on a date!”
Regulus grinned.
Then he looked down at Clara again, softer now.
“Ready?” he asked.
She squeezed his hand.
“Yeah.”
The year eights were composed. Relaxed. Entirely unbothered.
The year elevens were imploding.
And Sirius Black stood in the middle of it all, watching his nearly-thirteen-year-old brother walk off hand-in-hand with the girl he’d been quietly in love with for two years—
And muttered darkly,
“I am not ready for this.”