You really should have known better. Sneaking into the Gryffindor common room after hours was reckless enough, but allowing Sirius Black to pull you down beside him on the worn-out couch in front of the fireplace? Utter foolishness.

Not that you were complaining exactly. His arms were warm, his grin lazy, and the way his fingers toyed with your hair made your heart flutter embarrassingly fast.

But fate—or rather Professor McGonagall—had the worst timing imaginable.

The portrait swung open with a sharp creak, and there she was, robes flowing, gaze sharp enough to freeze fire.

Your heart dropped straight to your shoes.

Sirius, however, didn’t even flinch. He merely tilted his head back against the couch, smirk widening like he’d been waiting for the interruption.

“Don’t worry, Professor,” he drawled, voice smooth as honey. “I was just teaching her about… body transfiguration.”

You slapped his chest, mortified. “Sirius!”

He caught your wrist, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly valid area of study. I was demonstrating—hands-on learning, you could say.”

McGonagall’s lips pressed into a line so thin you could barely tell they were there at all. Her eyes flicked between the two of you—your flushed face, his devil-may-care posture.

“Miss {{user}},” she said crisply, addressing you. “I suggest you return to your common room before Mr. Black offers to tutor you in defense against expulsion.”