It was a contract. A death eater tried kidnapped a British Mafia's daughter.
I was sent their to kill him to deliver the message that no one mess with the Mafia.
Plain and simple. And coincidently Severus was sent to hunt down the wizard by Dumbledore. So that's where we first met.
He was heavily injured during the combat with the death eater and due to explosion on the death eaters place, police started to arrive. Due to his injury he can't apparate from that place and I have to help him.
So Severus insisted to drive my car while I shoot down the police cars chasing us. And man I have never knew he could drive like he was born for this.
So after we escaped I patched him up and we shared a glass of whisky and that's how we are friends.
He asks for my help if he has any work in the non magical world and I asks him for information if I have to hunt a witch or wizard.
Currently I am running late for my Charm Class that I have the class with Slytherin.
Very few things in life make me break my vow of staying under the radar. One of them is seeing Daphne Greengrass walk into a room like she owns it, and everyone else is just paying rent.
The second class of the day rolled in like a moderately controlled stampede. Students buzzed like caffeinated bees.
But I didn't sit in the back row when I walked into the Charms classroom.
I went for the seat beside her.
Daphne Greengrass.
Because apparently, reincarnation also resurrected my lack of self-preservation when it came to beautiful, dangerous women.
She was already seated, legs crossed at the ankles, posture flawless, one hand resting delicately on the desk while the other flipped lazily through her Charms textbook. She didn't glance up when I slid into the seat next to her.
"You know this seat isn't open to just anyone," she said, voice cool and slow, like silk dipped in sarcasm.
I smirked. "Good thing I'm not just anyone."
Her eyes finally flicked toward me. Gray, like polished steel. Unreadable. But there was a flicker—one she tried to hide. A spark of something wild and electric.
"You're brave," she said.
"Dangerous combination when paired with charm."
That earned a subtle twitch at the corner of her lips. Not quite a smile. A dangerous maybe.
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. "You didn't object."
"I'm curious," she said, closing her book with a soft thump. "You're not like the others."
"Oh?" I feigned innocence. "Because I don't drool when someone mentions Quidditch? Or the fact that you were charmed by my magic at the train?"
She arched a perfect brow. "Because you don't talk. You... observe. Like you're studying us."
I gave a noncommittal shrug. "Maybe I am."
She tilted her head. "Are you dangerous, Jon?"
I turned to her slowly, meeting her gaze with a look I'd perfected back when I still had kill orders pinned to my name.
"Only if someone makes the mistake of thinking I'm not."
Her breath hitched—a sound only someone listening closely would catch. Then, as if to gather her composure, she sat straighter.
Flitwick entered right at that moment, bouncing like a very well-dressed cricket. Saved by the bell, or the professor, in this case.
"Welcome, welcome!" he chirped, climbing a stack of books to reach the top of his desk. "Ah! Ravenclaws and Slytherins together! Let's see if wit and cunning can combine into brilliance, shall we?"
Daphne didn't look away. I didn't either. We were playing chess in our eyes.
Only when Flitwick began his explanation did she finally turn forward. I exhaled silently.
"Today, we'll be practicing the Levitation Charm — Wingardium Leviosa!"
Cue the predictable chorus of mispronunciations.
"Remember," Flitwick called, "it's leviOsa, not levioSA!"
I didn't need practice. I could do this spell with my eyes closed. I'd performed more precise levitations in my training period or when I was doing contracts under far more stressful conditions, like floating poison vials through laser-tripped corridors. But today? Today, I played the part.
I did the wand movements smoothly, but without flourish. No spinning, no exaggerated gestures, no showmanship. Just quiet, competent execution.
The feather in front of me lifted. Perfectly. Silently. Hovering at exactly Flitwick's preferred height. I brought it back down gently, no wobble.
Flitwick made a sound that was somewhere between delight and mild astonishment.
"Wonderful, Mr. Bonds! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"
A few Ravenclaws murmured behind me. I caught snippets.
"Again?"
"He did not even tries…"
"Is he secretly Flitwick's nephew or something?"
I ignored them.
Next to me, Daphne raised her feather easily, too. Flawless technique. Of course, she was good. It would've offended my sensibilities if she weren't.
When Flitwick moved on, I leaned a little toward her, voice low.
"You made that look effortless."
"I don't waste effort on the obvious," she replied.
"Is that your motto?"
"It's one of them."
"And the others?"
She smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
I chuckled. "Very much so."
"You're insufferably cheeky," she said, nudging my foot lightly under the desk. It wasn't a kick. It was a test. A tease.
I pretended to be offended. "I'm wounded, Daphne. You wound me."
"Good. That means you can feel something," she said, suppressing a smile.
"I feel plenty," I said. "Especially when the most beautiful girl in the room smiles like that."
She looked away, but not fast enough to hide the blush. Soft. Rosy. Real.
By the end of class, I had deliberately kept my charm to a minimal, efficient hum. I didn't need to outshine anyone. I just needed to do enough. Enough to maintain the illusion that I was smart but not too smart. Talented but not too talented.
Because attention? Attention is a knife with two edges.
When class ended, the room erupted into chatter as books were packed and feathers dropped to the floor like forgotten dreams.
As I tucked my wand away, Daphne remained seated beside me.
"You held back," she said softly.
I blinked, looked at her. "Pardon?"
"Don't play dumb," she said, watching me closely. "You didn't even try. I've seen people try. You executed that spell like it was muscle memory. Just like on the train, when you lifted my luggage without a single chant or wand movement."
Damn. She remembered that.
"Maybe I'm just naturally gifted," I said, offering a slow grin.
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upward. "You're impossible."
"Yet here you are, still talking to me."
"Because you're interesting," she said, quieter now. "Different. But still hiding something."
I packed my book into my satchel. Paused.
"Because attention is a double-edged sword," I said quietly. "And I'm not the type who can afford to be cut by it."
She studied me. Like she was trying to decode an ancient language. I didn't flinch.
"I could keep your secret," she said after a moment.
I turned to her. Met her eyes.
This time, I leaned in a little closer, my voice dropping lower, soft as velvet but laced with something deeper.
"Maybe one day... I'll let you become one."
The air stilled between us. Her eyes widened just slightly—barely a breath of a reaction, but I caught it. That flicker of vulnerability in the girl who always wore armor. Then, almost imperceptibly, she inhaled like his words had knocked the wind from her.
"I'm not afraid of secrets," I added. "I'm afraid of what they do to people who try to uncover them."
She nodded slowly, visibly composing herself. "So you're hiding something."
"Everyone is."
She leaned back. "I like puzzles."
I tilted my head. "And I like people who don't solve them too quickly."
She let out a soft, unexpected laugh. "Careful, Jon. You're starting to sound like you're flirting."
I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Who says I'm not?"
She stood with me, eyes still dancing with that stormy curiosity.
"Then be careful. Slytherin girls bite."
I leaned in, just enough for her to hear the whisper. "Good. I've got sharp teeth too."
And with that, I walked off, calm and unbothered, even though internally I was already strategizing my next twenty-three responses.
Daphne's Perspective
She hadn't meant to like him.
From the moment he lifted her luggage on the train without magic, she'd sensed something. Something dangerous. Something deliberate. And when he sat beside her in Charms, everything confirmed it.
He was hiding more than talent. He was hiding himself. And that intrigued her.
But it wasn't just the mystery. It was the way he looked at her like she wasn't just a Greengrass. Like she was a person with layers and edge and fire. Like he already understood the parts of her she kept locked away.
And when he said, "Maybe one day, I'll let you become one," it had hit her harder than she cared to admit.
She hated how warm her cheeks felt when he complimented her smile.
She hated how much she liked it.
She hated that she couldn't control this.
But most terrifying of all?
She didn't want to stop it.
She wanted to be his secret.
Even if it meant she could never tell a soul.