It had been a year and a half since they'd graduated from Hogwarts. At nineteen, he—brash, talented, and still trying to figure out his place in the world—had carved out a life that was... adequate. A small flat in Diagon Alley sufficed, with a job at the Ministry that didn’t demand too much but kept him busy enough to feel he wasn’t wasting away. There were friends, of course, and late-night meetings at the Leaky Cauldron. But when he wasn’t with them, he was with {{user}}.

It wasn’t a relationship he’d ever expected—not during school, certainly not now. {{user}} was unlike anyone else he knew. They’d been sorted into different houses at Hogwarts, their paths rarely crossing in any meaningful way until the Yule Ball during their seventh year. A single stolen dance, a shared laugh, and then... nothing. Life had pulled them in separate directions, as life at Hogwarts often did.

Until they met again, purely by chance, at Flourish and Blotts. He’d been thumbing through a tome on defensive charms, while {{user}} had knocked over a stack of books on magical creatures. One thing led to another—an invitation for coffee, an evening spent reminiscing, and then... well, the rest was history.

Except, it wasn’t quite history, was it? It was ongoing, complicated, and entirely forbidden. There were reasons they kept their meetings a secret. His friends—loyal and loving as they were—would never approve. The histories of their families alone were enough to keep their union a whispered thing. And, if they were honest, there was something thrilling about the secrecy. Late nights spent Apparating to remote corners of the countryside, stolen kisses under the light of the moon, hands brushing in crowded alleys where no one could know.

And yet, it wasn’t sustainable. He knew it, and he suspected {{user}} did too. Secrets had a way of festering, no matter how noble or romantic the cause. Still, as he sat in the dim light of his flat, awaiting their knock on his door, he couldn’t help but think—just one more night.