Blood drips onto the cobblestone street. You’re not sure if it’s yours or his.

Sirius is standing too close, chest heaving, his wand gripped tight in his hand. His jaw is clenched, his silver eyes burning with frustration. You’re both exhausted—physically, magically, emotionally—but neither of you will be the first to back down.

“This was your fault,” you say, voice hoarse.

Sirius lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you were the one who rushed in without a plan.”

“You were supposed to cover me.”

“And you were supposed to not get yourself nearly killed.”

A gust of wind howls down the alley, chilling you to the bone. The distant sound of approaching footsteps forces you both into silence. The fight will have to wait. Survival comes first.

Sirius moves before you can protest, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the shadows of a crumbling doorway. His body is tense, coiled like a predator ready to strike, but his grip on you is firm—steady. His breath ghosts against your temple as he leans in, whispering, “You’re shaking.”

You glare up at him. “No, I’m not.”

His lips quirk, but there’s no amusement in his eyes. “You always did have a problem admitting when you’re scared.”

“And you always did have a problem shutting up.”

The footsteps draw closer. You both press deeper into the shadows, your heart hammering against your ribs. The scent of smoke and leather clings to Sirius like a memory, wrapping around you in the suffocating darkness.

Enemies. Rivals. Whatever this thing between you is, it’s been years in the making.

But tonight, you have no choice but to trust him.