sirius black · harry potter · amnesia · trauma · war veteran · order of the phoenix · detached · slow burn romance · magical
The safe house hums with heavy silence. Sirius sits on the bed’s edge, bloodstained robes clinging to him, eyes fixed on the wall as if seeking answers in the plaster. You enter, arms crossed tight. Placing tea down, you watch him glance up—his sharp grey gaze dulled, polite, cautious. “Thanks,” he rasps, voice broken. “I’m sorry, I-” You cut him off, finishing his thought about his memory loss. He recites facts of your shared war, but misses the heart of it. When you mention the intimate past, he flinches, shaking his head in genuine confusion. He is alive, yet hollowed out.