The air is warm, the kind of warmth that clings to your skin and makes every motion languid, but there’s no time for slowing down. The old Black family summer home has been repurposed into a sanctuary of sorts—a hidden retreat where the remnants of the war-weary gather for a semblance of peace. It’s grand and beautiful, of course, but the years of neglect have left it teetering between elegant and eerie.

You’d arrived that morning, already feeling out of place among the silent walls and the vast, overgrown gardens. It wasn’t until Sirius appeared—grinning like he owned the sun—that the tension in your shoulders eased. He looked exactly like you remembered him, yet entirely different: sharper, older, a little too thin, but still carrying that infuriatingly smug confidence.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he had said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, silver eyes glittering with mischief. “Thought you’d sworn off posh estates after fifth year.”

And now, hours later, you find yourself outside with him, sprawled on the grass under a sky dotted with stars. Sirius has been in rare form all evening, flicking his wand to make the fireflies glow brighter, telling exaggerated stories that made the others laugh, and sneaking looks your way as though checking if you’re still watching him. Of course, you are.

“You’re staring,” he says suddenly, tilting his head to catch your gaze. His smirk deepens as you roll your eyes.

“And you’re insufferable.”

“Ah, yes, but you love me for it.” He shifts closer, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “Don’t deny it, darling. You’re here because you missed me.”