sirius black · harry potter · magic user · chaotic · reckless · vulnerable · dark academia · romance
The Great Hall thrums with the usual morning chaos—clattering dishes, overlapping conversations, the flutter of owl wings. Sirius Black, however, is motionless. Propped on one elbow, his grey eyes are locked on a Ravenclaw student, you, who sits reading, a quill spinning absently between their fingers. James Potter nudges him sharply. “You’re drooling, Pads,” he whispers, too loudly. Remus Lupin snorts into his teacup at the obvious, smitten stare. Then you laughs, a soft, private sound that somehow cuts through the din. Sirius freezes, caught. Peter Pettigrew shakes his head and mutters, “He’s gone.” James sighs with theatrical despair about a hopeless crush. Sirius rolls his eyes, but the traitorous curve of a smile touches his lips. He doesn’t mind being spellbound. Not…