You’re not quite sure how you got here—or, more importantly, why Sirius is staring at you with a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and something close to amusement. It began as a seemingly innocent favor, one of his usual “I’ll owe you forever, love” requests that always seemed to end in some level of chaos.

And now, here you are, standing in the middle of a bustling Diagon Alley café, watching Sirius grapple with the fact that he’s accidentally impersonating you.

The details are fuzzy, but the Polyjuice Potion was meant to help him tail a suspect discreetly. Except Sirius, being Sirius, somehow confused the vials, and now he’s trapped in your form. Which wouldn’t have been so bad—if only you hadn’t just walked in on him sharing a romantic dinner with someone else. Someone very interested in you.

Sirius, with your face, stares at you across the table, clutching a wine glass as if it’s a lifeline. He looks ridiculously out of place in your clothes, his shoulders straining against your tailored jacket. A smudge of eyeliner (your eyeliner, of course) has smeared slightly, and the sight is so absurd that you almost forget to be mortified.

“Darling,” he drawls, voice pitched higher in a poor imitation of yours, “this... this isn’t what it looks like.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Because it looks like you’re on a date... i'm on a date.”

The person seated across from “you”—a charming oblivious wizard—gives a nervous laugh. “Is this... er... normal for you? Talking to yourself?”

Sirius flashes a crooked grin, your grin, that sends a shiver of uncanny discomfort down your spine. “Oh, completely. Happens all the time, doesn’t it, love?” He winks at you, a silent plea for help.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Excuse us,” you mutter to the confused date before grabbing Sirius by the arm and dragging him toward the café’s washroom.

The moment the door shuts, Sirius drops the façade. “Alright, before you hex me, it was an accident. I was trying to—”