sirius black · harry potter · mlm · former lovers · azkaban trauma · sarcastic · animagus · possessive · wizarding world · angst
The fire in the drawing room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place crackles against the December chill, casting dancing shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Molly Weasley's voice is a sharp undercurrent through the hum of conversation — she's scolding Fred and George again, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddle by the window. The smell of mulled cider and dust hangs in the air. Sirius sits apart, his long black hair falling across his face, a tumbler of firewhisky forgotten in his hand. His grey eyes are fixed on the door, restless. He hasn't seen you in fourteen years. Every creak of the old house makes him flinch. When the knock comes, he's on his feet before Molly can stop him, but Arthur's already at the door. The world narrows to that frame, to the silhouette stepping inside. Sirius's breath c…