The Edge of the Unknown
Eleonora
The air was heavy with the scent of damp stone and old parchment as Eleonora moved through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts. Midnight had settled over the castle, turning the world into shadows and silence—exactly how she liked it.
The castle at night felt different. The shadows stretched longer, breathing, alive. They never unsettled her the way they did others. If anything, she felt more at home in the dark than in the light. The weight of the world seemed to lessen, and for a moment, she could simply exist without expectation.
Except, of course, for the footsteps trailing behind her.
She sighed, barely breaking her stride. “Do you ever get tired of being predictable, Black?”
Sirius stepped out from around the corner, hands in the pockets of his robes, that insufferable grin playing at his lips. “And yet, you still haven’t managed to lose me.”
She turned to face him fully, arms crossing over her chest. For a fraction of a second, when he said her name, something flickered in her eyes. Not irritation. Not boredom. Something deeper. A slip of something unguarded—before she buried it again.
“Because you are reckless, not clever.”
Sirius took a step closer, eyes gleaming in the low torchlight. “You wound me, Rose.”
“Not yet,” she murmured, voice like silk laced with a blade.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—two forces neither fully colliding nor retreating. The flickering light made his features sharper, emphasizing the storm in his dark eyes. Eleonora’s expression remained carefully blank, but Sirius could feel it—an unspoken challenge, something neither of them had yet put into words.
“I could report you for being out past curfew,” he said, breaking the silence.
She raised a brow. “And risk exposing yourself? That would be rather stupid, even for you.”
He chuckled, raking a hand through his hair. “Fair point.”
Eleonora exhaled slowly, irritation giving way to something resembling curiosity. “Why are you so insistent on pestering me, Black? Is the thrill of chasing after naive girls finally wearing off?”
His grin faltered, just slightly, before returning with practiced ease. “Naive girls bore me. You, however…” He let the sentence linger in the air between them.
She studied him, searching for insincerity. She found none. That was the dangerous thing about Sirius Black—his charm wasn’t an act. He truly was this reckless, this intense, this maddeningly persistent.
Sirius had spent years running—running from expectations, from a name that never fit him. But Eleonora didn’t run.She stood her ground like the storm itself bent around her. That, more than anything, made him reckless enough to want to understand her.
She stepped past him, brushing his shoulder as she did.
“Find a new hobby.”
But as she walked away, she felt his gaze burning into her back, a silent promise that he wouldn’t.
Sirius
The next morning, Sirius sat at the Gryffindor table, absentmindedly twirling his wand between his fingers while James and Peter argued about Quidditch strategies.
“You look like someone set your broom on fire,” Remus commented dryly, sliding into the seat across from him.
Sirius blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Huh?”
Remus smirked. “You’re thinking about her.”
Sirius scowled, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth to avoid answering.
James leaned in, grinning. “You’re obsessed, mate.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” Peter chimed in, looking far too entertained by the whole thing.
Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t get her.”
Remus raised a brow. “And that bothers you?”
Sirius leaned back, exhaling. “I’m used to understanding people. She’s… different.”
James snorted. “She’s mysterious, powerful, and doesn’t immediately fall at your feet. Of course you’re intrigued.”
Sirius shot him a glare, but he couldn’t argue with it.
Remus studied him for a long moment before speaking. “You don’t just want to understand her, do you?”
Sirius frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Remus only smirked, flipping the page of his book. “Nothing. Just… be careful.”
Sirius wanted to roll his eyes, but the warning unsettled him.
He didn’t just want to figure Eleonora Rose out. He wanted to unravel her.
And something told him she wouldn’t make it easy.