"Emma."
Emmeline looked up and was momentarily blinded by the flash of a pPolaroid camera. She held out her hand in front of her face, trying to push his arm away, but it only spurred him on. He was fascinated with the workings of the muggle camera. He was fascinated with her, and the way she looked in the photo that he just took.
She was looking down, a faint rosy blush on her porcelain cheeks, and there were a few strands of straw-blonde hair falling in her face. Her lips were broken into a sheepish smile, with pearly teeth barely visible through her parted mouth.
They spent every day like this. In the library, or by the lake. In abandoned classrooms. Studying each other. Learning about each other. Discovering each other, as if there was nothing more interesting in either of their lives.
None of her friends knew, that Emmeline wasn't studying during the day, no, she was sneaking off to spend time with Regulus Black. And none of his friends knew either. They couldn't. And they never would.
He was the only one to call her Emma. For everyone else, it was Em, or Vance, or even Emmy to some of her best friends. But Emma, that name was reserved for Regulus, and Regulus only.
Regulus reached across and brushed those lingering strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear and resting his hand there for a few moments. She rested a hand on his leg, rolling up to fold her legs underneath her and rest on her knees, leaning her face in closely to his.
It had been friendship, up until that point. A close friendship, but platonic nonetheless. But as his lips descended onto hers, and she met them with eager anticipation, all traces of a friendship disappeared.
Months passed, and their stolen moments had become scarce. She was in her seventh year, attempting to study for exams she couldn't care less about. Not when Emmeline had already been recruited for the Order. Not when there was a war, tirelessly raging on outside the secluded walls of the castle.
Regulus wasn't innocent, but she didn't know that. She didn't know what he did in the confines of the Slytherin common room, him and his friends being corrupted by fascination for the dark arts. Still, they found solace in each other's arms, avoiding the topic of her graduation with all the strength they could muster.
And then, late one night, things changed. She'd pulled him up to a different level of the castle, into a room on the seventh floor where no one could interrupt them. He'd responded eagerly to the idea at first, kissing her with rough enthusiasm until they were horizontally intertwined on the couch.
Her nimble fingers reached for the buttons of his long-sleeved, collared shirt, but before she could finish, he stopped her.
"What's wrong?" Emmeline demanded impatiently. She wasn't experienced, nor was she impulsive or rash in decisions like these. She knew what she wanted, though. She wanted to be with him, before she graduated, and everything would have to change.
"Because." Regulus had struggled to find an answer, his usual air of cool confidence struck by a lack of knowhow of what to say. And before he could stop her, she saw it. The terrifying brand on his left arm, and it had shattered her within moments of seeing it.
Emmeline jumped up off the couch, stepping backwards nervously, shaking her head. "Wh-what is that?" she stammered indignantly, feeling frustrated tears of outrage form in her dark blue eyes. "Tell me!" she demanded, her voice bordering on a shriek.
Regulus was unsure of how to remain calm. "You know this doesn't surprise you." He retorted, standing up to match her. "You knew it, all along, and you can see past it. I know you can." He closed the distance between them, his fingers gently brushing against her trembling face.
"Then you don't know me very well at all." Emmeline had breathed, her voice a deathly whisper as she roughly brushed his hand away, tearing out of the door without a moment's glance back.
They'd known the inevitable had happened had torn them apart with such ease. The emptiness would never be fulfilled again.
Not when she walked out of Hogwarts for the last time, determinedly averting her gaze from the Slytherin table.
Not when he began second-guessing everything he stood for, and questioning whether he'd put his faith in the wrong side.
Not when she heard his name in passing during a meeting at the Order one night, there was no emotion registered on her incomprehensible face.
Not when he knowingly walked to his death, agonising over whether to stop at her door before he did so.
Not when Sirius solemnly announced one night that his younger brother was dead. Not even then.
They'd both trusted each other to do the right thing, and they'd both exceeded the other's expectations, but only when it was too late.