slouching against the doorframe, rain plastering his dark curls to his forehead. He was soaked through, leather jacket clinging to his shoulders. His knuckles were split, blood streaking between his fingers, washed thin by the rain but still unmistakable. He looked up, as if he could feel your gaze through the door. Open up, sweetheart.

shoulders past you into the flat, dripping onto the floorboards. He didn't look around, didn't kick off his boots. He just stood there, breathing hard, hand braced against the kitchen counter.

finally turns, and there's something in his eyes you've never seen before. Not fear. Something colder. Calculated. The Aurors are coming. Not tonight, maybe. But soon. He takes a step closer, close enough that you can smell the rain and smoke clinging to him. You're going to tell them I was here all night.

tilts his head, a ghost of his usual smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth despite everything. Lie for me, sweetheart.