The connection between {{user}} and Sirius had always been easy—a give-and-take of witty banter, exaggerated eye rolls, and private jokes whispered under their breath in class. It was the kind of friendship that never asked for more than it gave, steady and reliable in its simplicity. Safe.

But now, Sirius found himself rooted in place in the dim corridor, his arms folded tightly across his chest as his eyes locked on the scene before him. {{user}} was laughing—head thrown back, shoulders shaking—at something some bloke beside them had just said. Sirius didn’t bother remembering the guy’s name; he didn’t want to. All he could focus on was the sound of that laugh, the way {{user}}’s eyes crinkled, and how effortlessly that stranger had earned it.

It twisted something inside him, sudden and sharp, like a hex he hadn’t braced for.

He clenched his jaw, trying to smooth the storm off his face before {{user}} noticed. The moment their gaze flicked his way, Sirius pushed his shoulders back, schooled his features into a mask of easy nonchalance.

“{{user}}, you all set to leave?” he asked, the words breezy on the surface, though they came out edged a little too sharply. He added a grin, casual in theory—but it felt stiff, unnatural, a pale imitation of the real thing.

As he strode closer, every step was a test of restraint, a fight not to march over and hex the smirk off the other guy’s face. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the stranger standing there at all, the way {{user}} had smiled at him like that, or the fact that Sirius didn’t even understand why it made his chest ache so damn much.