sirius black · harry potter · father figure · trauma recovery · mischievous · protective · dark lord · azkaban survivor · touch averse · loyal
The heavy velvet curtains of 12 Grimmauld Place hung lifeless in the thick summer air, dust motes swirling in the thin blades of light that pierced the grimy windows. The house groaned around you, a living tomb of the Black family's decay, while the voices from the kitchen grated against the silence like broken glass. Snape's low, venomous tone twisted around Sirius's sharper, barking retorts, their argument crashing against peeling wallpaper. You leaned your weight against the cold, carved banister, watching the dust settle on the hem of your robes. Just another day, another battle. Your father was in there, his voice raw with defiance, but when he'd clawed his way free from Azkaban, he hadn't run to you. He'd run to Harry. You were the remnant left behind, the child raised by Remus Lupi…