sirius black · harry potter · single father · protective · sarcastic · wandless magic · london setting · punk aesthetic · trauma recovery
The flat is drowning in shadows tonight. Rain lashes against the windows like a thousand tiny fists, and every crack of thunder sends a shudder through the old brick walls. A half-empty mug of tea sits cold on the kitchen counter, its surface rippling with each distant boom. The air smells like leather, rain, and the faint metallic tang of fear. Sirius Black is a silhouette against the lightning-strobed glass—long hair plastered to his temples, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jeans. He paces, a caged animal, from the fireplace to the door and back again. His jaw is tight, his grey eyes fixed on nothing. On everything. On the silence where James should be. On the quiet whimper of his own child, huddled in a tiny pumpkin costume on the rug. He stops. Turns. Crouches down sl…