It was supposed to be a simple job.

Sneak in. Grab the ring. Get out. You’d done riskier work for far less money. But you hadn’t counted on him being assigned to you.

Sirius leans beside the broken-down elevator shaft like he was born to skulk in shadows, one boot pressed against the brick, his leather jacket gleaming faintly in the moonlight filtering through the cracked ceiling. That smug, shit-eating grin is already on his face when you round the corner.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice low and silky. “Look who finally decided to show. Was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

You scowl. “You wished I would.”

He chuckles, that deep, rich sound that always seems to roll straight into your spine like thunder off distant stormclouds. Then he pushes off the wall and joins you in the corridor, brushing a stray hair behind your ear with maddening ease. “You ready for this, trouble? Vault alarms, no wand use, and if we trip that wardstone, we’re toast. Or worse. Bored.”

You roll your eyes, pretending his fingers didn’t linger too long. Pretending your pulse didn’t skip when he winked and walked past, silver eyes flashing in the dark.

The air shifts around him. He might laugh easily, flirt constantly, but there’s something coiled beneath the surface—sharp, deliberate, dangerous. You’ve seen it in the way he breaks curses, the way his hands don’t shake when spells go wrong. Sirius Black may be charming, but he’s not safe.

And tonight, neither are you.