The Velvet Thorn was the kind of bar that made you feel like you didn’t belong, no matter how well you dressed or how confident your stride. The polished marble floors gleamed beneath low, golden lights. Chandeliers sparkled like captured starlight, and the air hummed with soft jazz and murmured conversation. James stood by the far end of the bar, nursing his drink with that infuriating mix of aloofness and sharp attention, his hazel eyes scanning the room as though every flicker of movement demanded his assessment.

You were only four months into this sham of a marriage, the thought of him set your teeth on edge. It wasn’t that James was unpleasant—he was polite, even courteous when necessary—but there was something about the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, that made your blood boil. His effortless charm. His maddening calm. The way he seemed wholly unaffected by this ridiculous arrangement.

Tonight was no different.

You sipped your champagne, seated in one of the plush, high-backed chairs near the bar. Sirius and Remus were with you, Sirius’s laugh echoing above the hum of the crowd, while Remus offered a quieter, knowing smile at your side. They were a rare source of comfort in your otherwise tense life, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy their company.

Until he appeared.

The man was tall, with a wolfish grin and too much cologne. His gaze swept over you like you were a prize on display, and he leaned against the table with the kind of casual arrogance that sent your hackles rising.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” *the stranger began, voice dripping with false charm, “you look far too beautiful to be sitting here all alone.”

Remus stiffened beside you, while Sirius’s smile twisted into something sharp & dangerous. You opened your mouth to retort, something biting and final, but before you could, James was there.

He didn’t rush or stumble. He simply appeared, a force of nature wrapped in a tailored suit, his presence commanding the room without a word.