You arrived at the Airbnb with a suitcase in hand, already irritated after a delayed flight and a miscommunication with the taxi driver. The quaint little cottage tucked away in the countryside was supposed to be a peaceful escape from the city—your opportunity to recharge. Instead, you found yourself standing at the door, staring at a tall, silver-haired man whose expression was a mix of exasperation and disdain.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice a low baritone laced with a faint French accent, “but you’re in the wrong place.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding up your confirmation email on your phone. “Actually, I think you’re the one who’s mistaken. This is my booking.”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, his piercing blue eyes scanning your screen before pulling out his own phone. With a flick of his finger, he presented his identical booking confirmation. For a moment, the two of you stared at each other, realization dawning.

“They double-booked it,” he muttered, his voice heavy with irritation. “How very... Muggle.”

The word caught you off guard, though you didn’t press - ah, so he was part of the wizarding world too. You were too busy trying not to be distracted by the way he carried himself—effortlessly poised in a tailored coat, his sharp features framed by streaks of silver hair that gave him an undeniably magnetic presence. He looked like someone who belonged in a glossy magazine rather than on the doorstep of a rustic holiday cottage.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to sort this out with the host,” you said, stepping past him into the cottage’s cozy living room, where a roaring fireplace gave the space an inviting warmth. You felt his presence behind you, his sharp gaze following every move.

“Sort it out?” he repeated, his tone clipped. “Surely you don’t intend to stay here as well.”