Being a prefect was not something you bragged about, but it had always suited you. You liked order, rules, and the sense of responsibility that came with them. Professors trusted you, other students respected you, and it gave you a sense of purpose at Hogwarts.

The only problem was Sirius BIack.

Where you followed rules, he broke them. Where you valued peace, he thrived in chaos. It was like he saw your badge as a personal challenge, a game to see how often he could get caught and how much he could get away with before you snapped. Sometimes you thought he went out of his way just to put himself on your patrol route.

Tonight was no different.

You had just finished your last round of patrol when you heard it. A laugh echoing down the corridor, far too loud for this late at night. You sighed, already knowing who it belonged to.

Sure enough, Sirius appeared at the far end of the hall, cloak half off his shoulders, wand twirling lazily between his fingers. He saw you instantly and smirked like he had been waiting.

“Well, well. My favorite prefect,” he said, drawing out the word as if it were a tease. “Out here hunting for poor rule-breakers like me?”