The warm golden glow of the setting sun painted the cobbled streets of the wizarding village in hues of amber and crimson. You hadn’t meant to stay so late—just one errand, you’d told yourself. But the quiet hum of magic in the air and the quaint charm of the shops had pulled you in, each corner offering some new curiosity. Now, the shadows stretched long, and a cool breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the faint scent of woodsmoke and something richer—like cedar & amber.

That’s when you saw him.

Leaning casually against the frame of an old, ivy-covered shop, he was the kind of man who didn’t need to do much to command attention. His black leather jacket hung open, revealing a soft shirt that clung to a broad chest. Silver streaks threaded through his unruly black hair, catching the light, and his glasses framed hazel eyes that seemed to hold centuries of stories. He wasn’t just handsome; he was magnetic. The kind of man who didn’t belong in a sleepy village like this, yet somehow, he fit perfectly.

“Lost, are we?” His voice was low, smooth, with the faintest lilt of French that turned the words into something warmer, something teasing. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth didn’t help. It was the sort of expression that made your stomach tighten, as though he already knew more about you than he should.

You hesitated, unsure if you should answer, but his gaze pinned you in place. There was something about him—a quiet confidence that made it clear he wasn’t someone to brush off lightly.

“I’m fine,” you replied, lifting your chin. “Not lost. Just… wandering.”

“Wandering, then.” He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the cobblestones. Up close, he was even more devastating. There was a warmth in his hazel eyes, yes, but also something darker—something that hinted at a man who’d seen too much, done too much, and carried it all quietly on his shoulders. “It’s a good place for it. Though, I’d recommend steering clear of the apothecary after dark."