The corridor stank of damp stone and hex residue. Sirius Black had Severus Snape pinned against the wall with a lazy "Levicorpus", Snape’s greasy hair dangling inches off the floor. Sirius, unlike his friends, hasn't changed since the first year. He's a grown up now, all 18 years old, but still, still a bully. James Potter chuckled, wand aimed. Peter Pettigrew sniggered. Remus Lupin watched, tense, from the shadows – disapproving but silent.

"Sing for us, Snivellus!" Sirius drawled, twirling his wand like a baton. "Something sweet for your greasy hair?"

A new voice cut through the cruelty, sharp as a knife. "Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"

Two scarlet bolts slammed into Sirius and James. Wands flew from their hands, clattering down the corridor. Sirius stumbled back, whirling, grey eyes wide with shock.

You stood there, Hogwarts robes pristine but bearing familiar silver and green trim. Your posture was rigid, eyes – a startling, icy blue – blazing with contempt. The accent, thick and rolling, marked you instantly: another school transfer. Slytherin.

"Collecting wands from bullies," you stated coldly, striding forward to snatch Sirius's ebony wand from the floor. "Is this how Hogwarts welcomes newcomers? Pathetic."

Sirius recovered fast, the shock morphing into a dangerous, predatory grin. He stepped closer, invading your space, his aristocratic sneer back in place. "Well, well. The new snake hisses. Didn't take long for the slime to show, did it? What's the matter, princess? Upset we didn't roll out the green carpet?"

You didn't flinch. You met his gaze, unblinking. "Upset? No. Disgusted. Targeting the vulnerable isn't strength, Black. It's cowardice. Pureblood cowardice.""However..." you cackled "no surprises from the son of lunatics"

The insult landed. Sirius’s smirk faltered, replaced by genuine anger. "Cowardice". A word his mother spat. "You think you know anything, you little—"

"More than you, filthy little shit" you cut him off, your voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "I know the smell of rotten privilege. And you reek of it." You tossed his wand contemptuously at his feet. "Pick it up. Or are you scared without it?"

The gauntlet was thrown. From that moment, you became Sirius Black’s new obsession.

Weeks of petty torment followed. Jinxed books. Tripping hexes. Vile whispers about "foreign spies" and "Dark Arts lovers." You endured it with cold disdain, never rising to his bait publicly. You countered his spells with silent, efficient shields. You ignored his insults. It infuriated him. You weren't cowed like Snape. You were an immovable object, a silent, sneering judge reflecting his ugliness back at him.

One rainy afternoon, he cornered you alone near the greenhouses. Mud splattered your robes where he’d deliberately kicked a puddle. He leaned against the damp wall, blocking your path, radiating smug superiority.

"Lost, little snake?" he purred, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Need a proper wizard to show you the way? Or are you just scouting for more weaklings to slither around?" He reached out, intending to flick a strand of your hair, a final, condescending touch.

You snapped.

It wasn’t magic. It was pure, unadulterated rage. Your fist, fueled by weeks of bottled fury and the raw power honed at your previous school (where physical combat wasn't just for Muggles), shot out like a piston.

CRACK.

The sound was sickeningly loud. Your knuckles connected squarely with Sirius Black’s impossibly perfect cheekbone. His head snapped sideways, eyes wide with utter, dumbfounded shock. He staggered, stars exploding behind his eyes, blood already blooming bright red beneath the skin.

He didn't even hit the ground before you were on him. You shoved him hard against the greenhouse wall, the breath whooshing out of him. Before he could raise a hand, you were straddling him, pinning his wrists with surprising strength born of righteous fury. Your other fist drew back.

"No more," you hissed, eyes blazing. "No. More."

Left cheek. Nose – a crunching sound, blood gushing. Mouth – splitting his lip. Right cheekbone again. The silence was punctuated by your ragged breaths and Sirius’s choked gasps of pain and disbelief. Blood spattered your robes, your hand, his pale skin.

James, Remus, and Peter rounded the corner, drawn by the commotion. They froze, horrified.

"Merlin's—" James gasped. "Stop her!" Peter squeaked. Remus just stared, pale as parchment, seeing the controlled, terrifying fury.

Sirius didn't fight back. He couldn't. The sheer, unexpected violence of it, the raw power radiating from you, the blinding pain... it short-circuited his arrogance. He stared up at you through swelling eyes, blood filling his mouth, tasting of copper and shock. He saw no fear in your eyes. Only cold, righteous fury and absolute dominance. The predator had become the prey.

"Touch me again. Humiliate anyone I see fit to protect again. And I won't stop next time. Understood, coward?"

You pushed yourself off him, leaving him sprawled in the mud, gasping, blood and rain mingling on his face. You wiped your bloody knuckles calmly on your robe, shot James, Remus, and Peter a look of pure disdain that made the boys flinch, and walked away without a backward glance.

Sirius lay there, the cold mud seeping into his robes, the throbbing agony in his face a brutal counterpoint to the chaotic storm inside his head. Shame. Pain. Utter humiliation. But beneath it all, shockingly, terrifyingly... fascination. A brutal, electric jolt of something entirely new. You hadn't just fought back. You’d shattered him. You were fire and ice and fearless violence. You saw the rot in him and hadn't looked away; you’d punched it.

As James and Remus rushed to help him up, Sirius Black, through split lips and swelling eyes, managed a weak, bloody, and utterly bewildered smirk.

"Merlin..." he choked out, spitting blood, his gaze fixed on your retreating back with dazed, painful intensity. "...She's magnificent."