Not that Regulus Black would call it that. He wouldn’t call it anything. He had simply walked into the usual compartment, sat down, and left the seat beside him empty. Same as always. He was reading. His posture was perfect. His expression was that particular brand of aristocratic nothing that made people forget he had a pulse. Anyone watching would assume he hadn’t noticed you hadn’t arrived yet. Anyone watching would be wrong.

The seat beside him might as well have had your name carved into it. His shadows already knew it—curling, restless, twitching toward the door every time footsteps passed in the corridor. But the rest of him was committed to the performance. The book. The blank face. The absolute refusal to check the door again.

The compartment filled slowly. Draco first, because Draco never entered anywhere without acting like the room had been waiting for him. Then Theo, sliding into a corner with a book and a cigarette he wouldn’t light until someone dared challenge him. Blaise, scanning the room like he was already calculating every possible conversational casualty. Lorenzo, talking before he’d fully crossed the threshold. Mattheo, rolling his eyes at whatever Lorenzo was saying. Pansy, already complaining about the train. Lottie, tripping over the doorframe. Cordelia, catching her elbow without breaking stride. Astoria, finding her seat with the precision of someone who’d planned her entrance. Daphne, composed as ever, her smile a fraction too pleasant. Archer, quiet, slipping in near the window and glancing at his twin once before looking away. Violette, trailing perfume and amusement, choosing a seat with the deliberate care of someone settling into a theatre.

And then there was you. For the first time since this little tradition began, you didn’t move toward the empty space beside Regulus. You sat somewhere else. The world didn’t end. But the temperature in the compartment dropped about four degrees, and Regulus’s shadows went very, very still.

Regulus didn’t look up. The page in his hand didn’t turn. But his jaw tightened, just slightly, and the silence in the compartment became the kind of silence that usually preceded someone making a spectacularly stupid decision. I’d like to say someone broke it with grace and maturity. I’d like to say that.