"Have you ever kissed someone?" Sophia asked, looking out to the lake that stretched out beyond them. The sun reflected off of the gentle waves that swayed back and forth, forcing her to squint but failing to force her to look elsewhere. The wizard sitting beside her on the stone bench froze, his eyebrows knitting together as he turned to look down at her. Her words penetrated the silence between them, but they were not forceful. They had been consciously picked with care. It was an innocent question, but somehow it still sent him backward.

"What?" It was the only thing he could manage as if he hadn't heard well the first time.

"Have you ever kissed someone?" She repeated with the same exact tone she had the first time, but this time turned to look up at him. Sophia spotted the scar that ran from the bottom of his ear to the corner of his eyebrow, hidden behind strands of pitch-black hair. It was light, barely there, but their proximity to one another while sitting in the bright, spring sun gave her a complete picture.

Regulus Black was not one to share so easily the deepest, darkest parts of himself, but the witch beside him had a way of cracking into the crevices and pulling out those parts. Whether it be the way she moved, or how she spoke, the perceived gentleness, his defenses faltered when around her. Maybe it was the way they had grown up with one another, the fact that she had always been there, that their strength came from their history. He was never sure— they had nothing in common besides that they were both Slytherins, both purebloods, and nothing else. Not in the way they looked, not in the way they spoke, not even the things they liked.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Why?" He asked, attempting to stir the conversation away from an even darker place that he would much rather avoid.

"Why?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because Mina…" Sophia paused, rolling her eyes slightly. "The girls all have and, apparently, it's weird that I haven't. They had a good laugh about it." Regulus couldn't stop looking at her, his brain frazzled with the sudden sensitivity of the topic at hand. She had just so easily thrown it at him— as if he was some sort of Cupid, as if he was some sort of Don Juan. He wondered if that was the idea she had of him. "Now I feel like there's something wrong with me… or something." She shrugged her shoulders, reiterating the innocence of her question. But Regulus couldn't wrap his head around it, for whatever reason, he felt both the summer mid-day heat and an internal fire collide. "Everyone's kissed someone except me."

"So?"

"Well, like… everyone else has kissed someone except me, now I feel… I don't know, never mind… It's stupid, I know."

"It is." She nodded lightly in return, finally pulling her stare from him and focusing back on the lake.

"You think someone would want to kiss me?" Regulus didn't answer, instead keeping his eyes on the side of her face. He could make out the freckles that evaporated from her cheeks, becoming ever so distant as they moved towards her neck. "What's it like?"

"I need to go," Regulus said, grabbing his bag from where he had placed it on the ground and standing up. "I've got class."

"Okay," was all she said, looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite place. But, then again, Regulus wasn't known for his expression-reading skills— that had always been her, she was the one that could read through to someone's core. She was the one who could spot a lie from a mile away, the one who knew what was reality and fantasy. He couldn't help but linger for a second longer. Was she upset that he was abruptly leaving, or disappointed for his utter lack of willingness to answer her questions? What did she want from him? Why him? Why did she have to ask him and not one of the others from the myriad of people who would have been more than happy to delve into and share their most intimate endeavors with her?

But he never asked and began his ascent towards the castle. Not only did it seem that he could not place the expression he had left the witch with, but he could not place whatever it was that he was feeling, either. The only thing he could think was stupid. Stupid were the people who made Sophia feel like that. Stupid was he for not telling her how stupid they were. Stupid that she would even bother to give it a second thought. The entire topic was stupid, just stupid.

Who cares? He thought to himself, grimacing as he thought of it, ignoring the fact that hearing the word kiss come out of Sophia's mouth had nearly sent him spiraling into oblivion. Ignoring how it had made him blush, that it had made him damn-near sweat.

No, on that June day before the summer of 1975, Regulus would write the entire conversation off as stupid. Just stupid.