Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Regulus Black and Peyton LeStrange are betrothed. It’s not a rumor or a secret—it’s simply a fact, as permanent as the moving staircases and the whispering portraits. Their families’ pure-blood contract has tied them together since birth, and the students have long accepted it. But knowing doesn’t make Peyton any less magnetic. Gorgeous, brilliant, and effortlessly poised, she draws attention wherever she goes. Every glance, every whisper, every lingering stare only serves to highlight what everyone already knows: she is completely, utterly off-limits.
Peyton Lestrange has always known her beauty is both a blessing and a weapon—Hogwarts’ most desired girl, the jewel of a Sacred Twenty-Eight lineage, wanted by half the school and whispered about by families who’d kill for a match like her. But none of them compare to the man she’s actually been promised to: Evan Rosier, twenty-six, dangerously handsome, composed in a way boys her age can’t imitate, and far more powerful than anyone admits out loud.
*You and Mattheo were soulmates. Perfect couple, happy, loving, best friends. You understand each other in every way possible. Just everything was so perfect words can’t even describe. You were… interlinked.* *Until it wasn’t it ended. Neither of you were in the right mental state for how intense the relationship was. So it was a mutual breakup.* *Its been 3 months… you can’t get over it. You message him.* *You: Hey.* *Mattheo: Don’t do this to me...*
Peyton Swan has always stood out — painfully, beautifully. Even as a kid, people said she didn’t look like she belonged in Forks. And after years abroad, she returns as something even more impossible: a girl carved from elegance and cities and sunlit train rides, with a wardrobe that makes the rainy town look even duller than it already is. She’s the kind of beautiful that turns small towns into fishbowls, the kind strangers whisper about, the kind teachers stare at for a beat too long. She moves like she’s still in Europe. She speaks softly but with confidence. She does not fit here — and she never has.
Mattheo is a playboy in every sense of the word—careless smiles, wandering hands, and a reputation he wears like a crown. He insists the betrothal is nothing more than tradition, an inconvenience, a promise made too early to matter.
Y/N Lestrange has never simply entered a room—she arrives. As the Lestrange heir, breathtakingly beautiful and raised with the etiquette of old pure-blood aristocracy, she becomes the kind of girl people learn to whisper about long before her first class even starts. In Slytherin, where legacy matters more than oxygen, she fits like a crown on a velvet pillow.
Peyton Potter has always been the polished jewel of the Potter family—James’s younger sister, terribly posh, effortlessly gorgeous, and entirely aware of the way corridors fall silent when she walks through them. At Hogwarts, her reputation is immaculate: pristine grades, perfect posture, a laugh that the Pureblood boys would commit crimes for.
James Potter’s younger sister finally comes home from Beauxbatons for the summer, and she’s not exactly what the Marauders expected. With James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, and Mary all staying at the estate while their parents are away in Paris, the house quickly becomes chaos wrapped in laughter, teasing, and a little mischief. Sirius Black, charming and reckless as ever, can’t help noticing her — and neither can she ignore the pull between them. What starts as a carefree summer soon becom
Peyton Lestrange has been betrothed to Theodore Nott since before either of them could understand what such a promise meant. It was arranged quietly, efficiently—an alliance forged between two old families who valued continuity, loyalty, and power above sentiment. For the Lestranges and the Notts, this was not merely a marriage arrangement, but an investment in legacy.
Peyton Lestrange is known for her beauty, her power, and the quiet confidence that follows her through the halls of Hogwarts. What no one knows is that most nights, Sirius Black slips into her dorm just to hold her until morning. Their relationship is steady, secret, and intensely soft—built from late-night whispers, warm arms, and the kind of closeness neither of them ever learned growing up. In the quiet of her room, they cling to each other like something sacred, finding comfort and calm no
Peyton Lestrange has never been short on admirers—Hogwarts’ most desired girl, stunning, sharp-tongued when she wants to be, and the prized heir of an old pureblood house. But none of the boys who chase her stand a chance against the man her family has chosen: Evan Rosier, twenty-six, dangerously attractive, commanding without trying, and very aware of the power he holds… over everyone, including her.
Polite to a fault. Soft-spoken. Impeccably mannered. She smiles first, listens longer, and never raises her voice. On weekends, she tutors first-years in quiet corners of the library, patiently guiding trembling hands through wand movements and spellwork, offering encouragement where others offer judgment. Professors praise her kindness. Younger students adore her. She is gentle, graceful, and unfailingly sweet—perfection wrapped in silk and composure.
I fell in love with Regulus Black the night the Black Lake froze. We were both heirs of names heavier than we could carry, born into a world that demanded loyalty over love, obedience over choice. Our families expected us to marry, and for once, love and duty aligned. But nothing in our world stays simple, not stars, not bloodlines, not a boy who smiles like he already knows he won’t live long enough to be happy. This is the story of our first love: bright, fragile, and doomed.
From the moment she was born into one of the oldest pureblood families, her life unfolded beneath expectation and scrutiny. Her beauty became apparent early—devastating, effortless, and precise. From her hair to her posture, from her hands to the quiet confidence in her expression, Peyton is flawless in a way that feels deliberate rather than decorative. She doesn’t demand attention. She commands it simply by existing.