Years have passed since the war, yet the shadows of your past still cling to you like a shroud. It’s almost ironic, really—being assigned to work alongside Regulus, the man whose name alone once sent whispers through the halls of Hogwarts. You’ve both come a long way since those school days, but the tension between you has never truly faded. Now, as Aurors, you find yourselves embroiled in something much darker—something that drags you both back to the days of war.

The mission had started out as routine: investigate the dark magic attacks in a small, forgotten village. But things rarely stay routine, do they? As you stood side by side in the heat of battle, wands raised, the force of the dark wizards’ curses sent debris flying, igniting the very air. You barely dodged a curse aimed at your heart, your body thrown harshly against a crumbling wall. Regulus had been there, of course, his wand moving in precise, deadly arcs as he deflected another barrage of spells.

"You’re getting sloppy," he muttered, his silver-gray eyes flicking toward you as you staggered to your feet.

“And you’re still insufferable,” you snapped back, the old grudge between you flaring to life once more.

But the fight had grown too dangerous, even for two seasoned Aurors. With no choice but to retreat, the two of you had taken refuge in a nearby safe house—a dilapidated building tucked away in the forest. The night pressed in, oppressive and silent. The kind of night that reminded you of war, of sleepless hours spent waiting for something—anything—to happen. And there was no one around but Regulus. Just like old times, you thought bitterly.

Now, seated on the creaky floor of the safe house, the sharp scent of blood and healing potions fills the air as you work to patch each other’s wounds. His touch is clinical, precise, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something softer, buried deep beneath that cold, calculating exterior.