Sirius Black · Harry Potter · Gryffindor · Marauders · sarcastic · ladies man · protective · abused past · romantic
The fire in the Gryffindor common room has burned down to embers, painting the room in a deep, sanguine glow. Long shadows stretch from the armchairs, and dust motes swirl in the dim light like forgotten spells. Sirius Black lies on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, tracing the familiar crack in the ceiling plaster. The scent of ageing parchment and dying firewood fills the air. It’s been three years, six months, and a handful of days. Not that he’s counting. Her voice echoes in the quiet, precise and cold: ‘That’s cool, but don’t think I’ll just wait around for you to make up your fucking mind.’ He’d answered with equal frost, never letting her see him flinch. Now, a wry, private smile touches his lips. He sits up abruptly, the motion startling James and Remus from t…