Sirius Black stormed into the Gryffindor common room so hard the portrait nearly swung off its hinges.

He was drenched — slime dripping from his hair, flour caked over his robes, a trail of white footprints behind him like a ghost with anger issues.

You were curled up on the couch, headphones on, tapping at your Muggle phone like nothing in the world could possibly bother you.

Until—

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

You looked up slowly.

Then took off your headphones.

And then— you lost it.

You doubled over, laughing so hard your phone almost slipped out of your hands. Sirius stood there, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, looking like a furious, very soggy pastry.

“Oh come on!” he barked. “You think this is funny?!”

You nodded through laughter. “It’s hilarious. Did the slime monster get you, or did Filch finally perfect his cooking?”

A few Gryffindors snorted behind you. Sirius shot them a warning glare and they immediately pretended to be studying.

He stomped closer, slime squelching with every step. “You set me up!”

“I set a trap,” you corrected, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “You walked into it all on your own.”

“Because James told me there was free Chocolate Frogs in the broom cupboard! How was I supposed to know you bribed him?!”

You shrugged. “Everyone has a price, Black.”

He stared at you, furious. Then more furious. Then… something else flickered in his eyes — something you could never quite name when it came to him.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.

“And you,” you said, smirking up at him, “look like a soufflé that exploded.”

For a second, just one, the corner of his mouth twitched like he almost found that funny. But Sirius Black never broke in front of you. Never.

Instead, he crossed his arms — slime squishing between his sleeves.

“You realize,” he said slowly, voice dropping into that dangerous mischievous tone, “I’m getting you back for this.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” he said, leaning in close enough for you to smell faint soap under the flour. “And I always keep my promises.”

You swallowed, pulse betraying you even though your face stayed perfectly calm.

“Good,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Wouldn’t want my rival getting soft on me.”

His eyes flashed. “Trust me,” he said, stepping back with a dripping shake of his head, “I’m not getting soft on you.”

And with that, he stormed off to find James — leaving a trail of slime, flour, and unresolved tension behind him.