You knew the room was going to be bad the moment Sirius Black walked in.

He’s late, of course. Leather jacket slung over one shoulder like rules don’t apply to him. Rings clicking together as he drops into the chair opposite you, legs sprawled, grin sharp and unreadable. He looks bored already, like this whole thing is beneath him.

The projector hums behind you. The case file is open on the table between you both.

Faculty pairing. No appeals.

Sirius skims the first page, then laughs under his breath. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You don’t look at him. You already know why he’s laughing. Wrongful imprisonment. Abuse of authority. A system that locked someone away and called it justice.

“This isn’t funny,” you say.

That gets his attention.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too bright. “Didn’t say it was. Just… ironic.” His gaze flicks to you, sharp, testing. “You always this serious, or am I just lucky?”

You finally meet his eyes. There’s defiance there. And something else, restlessness, maybe. Like he’s vibrating under his own skin.

“This is a professional setting,” you reply. “If you can’t handle that, say so now.”

For a second, something shifts. The grin falters. Just barely.

Then it’s back. Louder. Meaner. “Relax. I can handle anything.” He taps the file with one ringed finger. “Question is, can you handle working with me?”

The silence stretches.

It’s too quiet. He notices. His jaw tightens, shoulders tense like he expects impact.

You break it, not gently.

“We’re here to win the case,” you say. “Not like each other.”

Sirius exhales a laugh that sounds like it scrapes on the way out. “Good. Hate to disappoint.”

He leans back, chair tipping dangerously, eyes never leaving your face.

“Looks like we’re stuck together,” he adds. “Try not to fall in love with me. Everyone else does.”